The Forgotten Child
by Lexi02
Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.
1. Prologue

**The Forgotten Child**

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkein was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

*IMPORTANT* Name pronunciations will be at the bottom of every chapter for your convenience (that is if you wish to know it). I have no clue whether or not all of the names and their meanings are accurate but I did my best in researching Anglo-Saxon names and words for my story.

**Prologue**

Her eyes were light – bright, green orbs with hints of gold touching just outside their edges. They were eyes for a goddess and yet she was a just a woman, a woman who's eyes were fixed upon something in her slender arms. A small bundle of sheer white cloth wrapped around a beautiful baby girl that slept in the woman's arms; unaware of the inner-war the woman was battling. A glistening tear pooled in her eyes, and it seemed out of place for such a distressing symbol should never adorn such eyes.

"Elvina," a voice stirred the sleeping child but it did not wake. Instead, a small strand of auburn hair fell from the cloth and brushed across the child's forehead. "It is time. You must let her go now." Elvina sighed, never looking away from the precious child in her grasp. She bowed her head deeply, causing her own auburn waves to fall forward from behind her shoulders and it cascaded like water beyond them. It was long, thick, and breathtakingly smooth – one could almost feel the softness just by sight of it.

"Will she be safe Elrond?" The words were quiet, and exasperated as Elvina tried to bring the child closer to her chest.

"You know she will be, here, she is unexplained. And, you know, as do I, the danger in that." Lord Elrond stepped closer to Elvina. "It will build questions – questions that some would need to have answered." His voice was stern but full of kindness as he tried to coax Elvina to release the dear child.

"Where is Arathorn?"

"He has begun his journey home." Lord Elrond spoke his words carefully as he saw Elvina's eyes widen from underneath her auburn locks. "He will never come back for you, for he does not know to look." The words were stabbing to Elvina as she realized he thought her dead. A small sniffle escaped her pout, pink lips – causing the child to stir again.

"Protect her. Protect my dear Erisanna." She kissed the baby's forehead and with that the baby's eyes opened just as the tears fell from Elvina's eyes. The child's own bright-green eyes watched a tear fall, wide-eyed in curiosity. He face contorted when the tear graced her cheek of olive skin. Before the child could reach up to the woman, the elfin man received her tiny body and turned away from Elvina.

Her strength had broken, and the tears clouded her eyes from seeing her only child – her beautiful daughter – disappear forever.

R&R PLEASE!

I realize this is an extremely short entry BUT I just wanted to get some feelers out there to see if this story will gain any interest as I finish writing Chapter 1 and 2. I will have the first chapter up by the end of the upcoming week!

Names:

Erisanna – Ehr-is-AHN-NAH

Elvina – EL-VEE-nah


	2. Marshall, Lord, & Father

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

**Chapter 1: Marshall, Lord, Father**

"Catrin!" A low stern voice echoed throughout the Hall of Freyden. "That girl!" One could hear the amusement hidden behind the annoyance as Lord Garberand muttered to himself. He was a tall man with a stocky build. Gray hair had over run his dark, chin-length waves and continued throughout his beard. A slight mead and beef stomach protruded over his belt where a sword hung and a beautiful dagger was stored on the left. He was aged but still fit for battle. A former Marshall of the Mark, he was _always _ready for battle.

"She is riding my Lord." An old woman came up from behind Lord Garberand. "I do believe she left before the sun rose this morn." Lord Garberand rolled his eyes.

"Did she take a rider with her, Orva?" He questioned the plump, gray-haired woman.

"I believe young Theomund rode out with her my Lord."

"There are to be visitors this evening, and she is out gallivanting?" He sighed deeply, exasperated by his daughter's antics. "Orva, I am sorry. I have no way of controlling my daughter – she rides, she loves her freedom – and I know it is because of me."

"Indeed my lord, she has your spirit." Orva agreed heartedly and walked with the lord to the entrance of the great Hall of Freyden. They walked in silence to the grand entrance and looked out to the beautiful town of Freyden. Garberand remembered when he finally returned home to his wife seventeen years ago. The woman he loved, Lady Afentid, was there but not alone. A gift was brought to them – a gift of great importance – in secrecy. Lord Garberand was an honorable man and he loved his family. He promised to protect the precious gift he and his wife were presented, and he never broke his promises. "My Lord?" Orva interrupted the man's thoughts to motion towards the city gates ahead. He looked ahead of him and saw the figure of his daughter and her companion entering the gates to the town.

"Finally, the éored of Lord Éomer will be here at any moment!" He exasperated then shook his head in slight defeat. "Her mother would have my head if she knew I let our daughter run around in breaches with the King's nephew present." His voice softened at the mention of his late wife. She was his everything since they were merely fifteen years old.

For so long he believed he had no more room for the love he had for her but when they were graced with dear Catrin he was mistaken. He found he had so much more love to give for the woman he would do anything for and the child he would protect with his life. Afentid's love and devotion to their charge was profound and he could see in her eyes every day that Catrin was _her's: _despite the way she came to them. Her death was sudden, and it destroyed him for a time. He was with his éored when news of her passing reached him, and he took the opportunity to hide from the truth by continuing his duties to the mark – not returning home for some time. He wanted to believe that his loving wife would be there when he returned – that she would be at the gates of Freyden with Catrin at her side doing her best not run to her returning father.

Lord Garberand remembered all too clearly his actions as a man at that time. He avoided the truth. He abandoned his daughter because he was a coward to face his pain. The poor girl was only ten when her mother passed and if it were not for Orva, he would have returned to a broken child full of grief and anger; but Orva saved his beautiful girl from such despair. He returned to a daughter - many moons later – that was still as spirited as before and that still missed her father. At that moment he realized that, she needed him now more than ever before. He retired from Marshall and protected the northern Mark as he took on his duties as Lord of Freyden and as a father of Catrin. He missed the open fields, the battles, and the rough adventure of his éored but he loved his daughter more.

"See, my Lord, she has returned in one piece." Orva informed him, eyeing the Lord that was so obviously lost in his own thoughts. A knowing smirk crossed her lips as she saw him prepare to scold his ill-behaved daughter.

"Catrin! You demon child!" He bellowed when he saw her reach the stairs of the hall atop her beautiful white horse, Senta – a gift from Lord Garberand after he retired from the éored. Senta was covered with mud from hooves to chest and Catrin was not much better. To his frustration, on top of her breeches and boots, Catrin was not in any state to receive a Lord of the royal family. Her petite but muscular body was caked in dried patches of mud and dirt – some smeared across her olive skin and her sun-kissed face. Her long, auburn-brown hair was pulled to the side by a leather strap but most had fallen free from the binding and was now mucked in dirt and soot. It was thick, beautiful and silky but at this moment all one could see were tangles and matter of the Earth.

Lord Garberand's anger was visibly brewing as he noticed how desperately his daughter needed work before the impending guests arrived. Catrin looked at her father and tried to hide her delight but the moment her mesmerizing, bright-green eyes met his he saw all of the amusement she was trying to suppress. Unfortunately, Theomund – the stable guard – unleashed a small chuckle that broke his daughter's steadfastness and she broke into a smile shaped perfectly by rose-pink lips. "Senta needed the exercise father. She was restless all night! Theo said as much!" Catrin pleaded. Her admittance made Theomund hunch and look away from the already fuming Lord in front of him.

"Do NOT throw blame Catrin, it does not become you." He responded sternly. The words hit Catrin hard and she bowed her head in embarrassment.

"m'sorry." She mumbled. Orva cleared her throat at the poor etiquette Catrin displayed and the girl responded accordingly. She lifted her head, pulled her shoulders back and looked her father in the eye yet again. This time, those green eyes were full of sincerity. "I am sorry Father. I wanted to try the new saddle you had made for me. I will not leave Freyden again without consulting you first."

Lord Garberand's heart softened at her words and he sighed. He shook his head and stepped of the staircase towards his daughter and her beautiful horse. He smiled at her and reached up for her to help her from the saddle. She hesitated but relaxed, knowing that her father was merely worried, and accepted his arms. The moment she hit the ground her father pulled her close to him and enveloped her petite form in his arms.

He tightened his grasp and addded some comfort to his words. "I am not mad my dear, I simply worry. Years ago, we were able to ride out under the certainty of safety but times have changed. The orcs are coming into our lands and the Wildmen are venturing from the mountains. It is no longer safe to ride in small numbers." He gave her one last squeeze and kissed her forehead. Catrin nodded in understanding, scolding herself for foolishly making her father worry. Deep down she knew her father was the same - he needed the freedom as well but his duties as guardian for their town came first.

Backing away from her he kept both hands on either shoulder and looked at his filthy daughter. "Can we have her ready before the sun moves to far west Orva?"

"Of course my Lord." Orva responded with a smile and patted Catrin on the shoulder knowingly.

"But I need to wash Senta!" Catrin claimed.

"Theomund will be more than willing to sacrifice his meal time and wash the mare." He looked at the retreating boy pointedly. "After all, he did leave Freyden without more guards."

"Yes! I will! Right away, My Lord!" The nervous stable guard quickly gathered Senta's reins and his own horse's reins and left the three quickly.

"Now, Catrin, we have the Third Marshall of the Mark and his éored arriving today."

"I did not forget Father."

"Seems that you have, since you would risk tardiness to receiving Lord Éomer and his men." Garberand countered then laughed again and pushed Catrin along up the staircase to the Hall. "Go! Dirt and soot may suit you most days but I do not think it is a look of the royal court in Edoras!"

"Ha!" Catrin giggled and scurried up the staircase to the Hall with Orva trying to catch her from behind.

"She will be ready! I promise!" The old woman hollered behind her as she followed Catrin into the Hall.

NAMES

Catrin – Kat-trin

Garberand – Gahr-bur-and

Orva – Or-vah

Afentid – Af-IN-teed

Senta – Sent-AH

Chapter one is done! Éomer is on his way, you can feel there is more to Catrin than you have yet to discover, and the savages of Middle Earth are starting to appear – maybe that means the war of the ring is near! R&R my wonderful followers. I need some feedback please!

Thank you!

Next time… first encounter between the 3rd Marshall of the Mark and Lady Catrin of Freyden, an important decision for Lord Garberand, and maybe some more insight on our leading lady – Catrin.


	3. The Only Lady

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

**Chapter 2: Just a Child**

Catrin sat in the scalding hot water quietly as Orva brushed oils into her freshly washed hair. Her mind wandered as the soft touch reminded her of her mother's hands – braiding her hair each morning.

"What bothers you, dear?" Orva questioned the unusually quiet girl.

"Just remembering… That is all." Catrin smiled sweetly and continued to wash her already raw skin.

"Catrin, enough, you are clean!" Orva laughed at the absentmindedness of the girl and turned to pass her a drying cloth – indicating that they were finished for the moment. "You will need the sunflower oil for your skin as well. I will be back in a moment."

"Orva, that's not necessary." Catrin countered but Orva moved swiftly, for an old woman, and was already out the door. "Ugh." Catrin shook her head at the woman's insistence and felt annoyed by the unwarranted attention.

Many men that served the mark had visited her father in the past. Some came for social interest as her father was once their captain; and, some came to report the northern stability past Freyden. Not once, had her father shown such interest in her appearance before and it made her beyond frustrated. She knew it was because the Third Marshall of the Mark was the King's nephew but she felt that a man of the éored would care less if a woman would rather be on horseback than in the halls with needles and thread. Catrin huffed as her frustration boiled – her father once defended her lack of feminine interest when Orva would fuss over slight tangles in her hair. His sudden change in demeanor made her feel on edge even though she understood his reasoning.

"Your father is a proud man, Catrin. Lord Éomer is the King's nephew and therefore your father wants to show the lord that his daughter as a Lady of the Hall, a dutiful daughter, not a mud rat. He has expectations as a _Lord_ to live up too." Orva spoke, approaching Catrin with a glass jar full of the oils for her skin. She handed the jar to Catrin as she applied some to the girls back and then stepped away so Catrin could finish the rest.

"It doesn't make a difference if I'm presentable, and how in Middle Earth do you always know what is on my mind?"

"Pft! You cannot hide anything from me! It is written all over that face of yours. It's always there – whatever it is you are thinking." Orva said matter-of-factly – taking the jar back from Catrin as she finished applying the oils. Catrin wanted to retreat from the realization that she was being unreasonable towards her father but it had always been in her nature to defy.

"He's worried I will embarrass him in front of the Marshall then?" She said solemnly.

"Catrin." Orva began but Catrin cut her off quickly.

"He left his own éored for me when mother died. He came here and took up his duties as a Lord and now he needs to prove himself worthy of such a duty to a man who could report to the King if need be."

"Precisely, but you could never embarrass your father Catrin. You're far too endearing for that!" Orva insisted. "You must remember that you are the _only_ lady of the house. Help your father; do not add to his grays." She snickered at Catrin's roll of the eyes at calling her a lady, but she continued. "Lady Catrin, daughter of Lord Garberand and Lady Afentid, and descendent of the House of Gareth. You are no milk maid Catrin – be proud of who you are." She helped Catrin finish the braids in her hair and twirled them around the crown of her head to create a beautiful ring around her forehead as well. She then proceeded to help Catrin step into a beautiful plum-colored dress made of soft thin cotton and tied in the back by a silky, ivory-colored string.

"I am proud Orva, always." Orva smiled at Catrin's admittance and tightened the back of the dress to fit smugly against the girls toned figure – pulling her breast plump and flattering her petite but muscular form. She suddenly frowned when she realized her words to Catrin were a lie. Catrin was no descendent of the House of Gareth. She was not even a child of a Rohirrim man. She was never meant to be here – she was not meant to be a Lady of Freyden, but she was and her secret ancestry would always remain as such, a secret. "Orva, you're pulling a little too tightly."

"Yes, need to make sure you're common vigor doesn't cause this too loosen on you – that would truly be a sight your father would never want to see!" Before Catrin could laugh, horns sounded from the gates. She freed herself from Orva's grasp as soon as she finished lacing up the dress and dashed to the window. "Ah, so they have arrived. My luck, you are ready in time. We should head to the courtyard to meet your father." Catrin nodded as her eyes widened at the mass of men and horse came ascending over the hill before the gates. Many started to disperse along the perimeter of the town to make camp but a small company of men broke off and continued down the dirt road toward Freyden's gates. Her excitement was overwhelming as she imagined the adventures the men had been on and decided she might find her way to the fields to listen to their stories if possible. "Catrin." Orva warned.

"Coming!" Catrin sprinted past Orva, ignoring her scolding remarks at the unladylike display.

By the time she reached the courtyard in front of the stairs – that led up to the Hall of Freyden – her father was waiting for her with most of the household. All were lined up, facing south towards the gates. "Ah, Catrin I was beginning to worry." Lord Garberand slightly chided as she took her place beside him. Orva had finally caught up with her and descended the stairs to take her place with the household. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you father."

"Breeches are still very becoming on you though." He winked at her and she laughed as another horn sounded ahead of them. The men on horseback were adorned grandly in maroon cloth and beautifully crafted armor. She knew they were all of high ranking as they descended from their horses. The riders of the Mark were never poorly dressed but the added golden detailing to their breastplates were unique to them alone. "Welcome brothers!" Lord Garberand bellowed, his arms outstretched in an inviting manner. The small company of men in front of him handed the reins of their horses to the awaiting grooms and walked forward to be greeted properly. One man in particular stepped in front of the others to meet Garberand first.

"Garberand, my old friend, it has been too long!" The man in question removed his helmet as he spoke – a full head of white hair came forth and a man older than her father smiled a slightly yellow-stained smile.

"Ah! Beorn, too long indeed!" Garberand agreed and embraced his old friend.

"Let me introduce you to Lord Éomer, son of Théodwyn and Éomund, belonging to the House of Eorl, and Third Marshall of the Riddermark." Beorn put his arm out and motioned towards the already approaching man. Lord Éomer had already removed his helmet and was moving to greet Garberand before Beorn had even begun the introduction. He was a strong man, with dark eyes, tanned skin, and full, wavy, blonde hair. His presence was strong and intimidating. In Catrin's opinion, she found there to be nothing _gentle_ about this man.

"Lord Éomer." My father bowed his head in respect. "Welcome to my home. It is an honor to receive you and your men."

"The honor is mine Lord Garberand, from one Marshall to another. I appreciate your hospitality greatly." Éomer responded shook Garberand's hand firmly. "Unfortunately, this visit is not one of pleasure, but of great urgency. We have much to discuss with you, which, is why Sir Beorn has joined the ranks yet again." The suggestion in his voice was strongly foreboding and it made Catrin's heart heavy at the hint of something dreadful.

"Of course, I will have you settle your men and then we will have the meal started immediately." Éomer nodded in agreement and continued to introduce his remaining Captains. Finally, after shaking many hands, Garberand returned to his place next to Catrin. "My Lord, I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Catrin."

Catrin bowed and slightly dipped her knees as Éomer approached. He reached out, grasped her hand, and bowed his head; "My Lady," he whispered and kissed the back of her hand. His hand was strong and rough but still smooth in ways – as if the calluses he bore had been pressed.

The touch was innocent enough but to Éomer his heart began to race the moment her eyes had pierced his own. He had never been so stricken before and it was unsettling. He lifted his face from her hand and backed away from her without meeting her eyes again. As he moved away, she continued to stare in admiration at the Marshall. All she could do was imagine the life he had lived through the land of Rohan. She wanted to hear his stories as well and live vicariously through them. She was oblivious to the man's sudden break in demeanor and almost did not realize that he had spoken again.

"Not to be hasty Lord Garberand but I would like to get settled as soon as it is convenient."

"Yes, right this way. Orva here will show you and your men to your quarters and then direct you to the dining hall when you have fully settled in." Garberand beckoned more of the household forward to help with the rest of the men's belongings as Éomer started to follow Orva. He looked back at Catrin one last time and nodded one last time.

I AM NOT GETTING ANY REVIEWS =-Z EEK!

R&R Lovelies!


	4. After Tonight

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

**Chapter 3: **

With Orva running around barking orders for the feast, Catrin decided to take the opportunity to speak with her father. She found him in the cellars, speaking with one of the cooks. "Which one is heavier Aldin?" Her father asked the scrawny man.

"This barrel here, My Lord." He pointed to the barrel at his feet.

"We may need more than two barrels then."

"I'll bring a dark brew up from the east cellar. There are only two barrels left of this one here."

"Ay' bring these two to the dining hall and fetch the other before the feast ends." Aldin scurried off to find the brawn for the heavy lifting as her father turned to head back to the upper floor. "Catrin, avoiding Orva, I see."

"No, I am merely staying out of her way father." She grinned as he stepped forward and they walked together up the stairs. "So, what is it that Lord Éomer wants?"

"I have some idea but it is only my guess. We will see." Her father seemed distant to her and she decided not to press the matter; hoping the ominous feeling she had was in fact unnecessary.

"I think three barrels may not suffice." She said.

"HA! I hate to admit it but you may be right."

"I only say it because of your own tolerance when fellow riders come to stay." She giggled as her father laughed, remembering – well maybe not _fully_ – his own indulgence in the past.

"I'll fetch Aldin again before the feast begins."

"I can do that father." Catrin interjected and began to race up the halls.

"Do not be wandering before the feast. It will begin soon and I expect my daughter at my side before the guests enter!" His voice echoed in the hall as she skipped slightly towards the east cellar. She laughed at her father's words and knew he was smiling as well – his amusement rarely shadowed when it came to his daughter.

To her father's liking, Catrin arrived at the dining hall in a timely fashion – her task, retrieving another barrel of mead a success. When the men of the éored entered, the rest of the household were waiting. Lord Éomer entered the hall first with Sir Beorn behind him, then two Captains – Sir Barclay and Lord Eadgard. All four men wore tunics adorned with Rohan's shield in golden thread. Their breeches were of a dark leather and Catrin noticed the quality of them were remarkably nice. Underneath their tunics, they wore shifts made of dark maroon and lined in gold thread as well. To Catrin's delight, some of the men from the éored camped outside of Freyden had joined the feast as well and entered the hall after the other four.

As soon as formal introductions done, Lord Garberand stood and spoke loudly from the head table. "Let us feast!" His words had no time to echo, as the hall seemed frenzied in devouring the glorious food in front of them.

Catrin sat at one of the head tables to the right of the center table that her father and the four honored guests were seated. The table faced the other like an "L" shape, giving Catrin full view of her father, Lord Éomer, and the others. To her dismay, their conversations seemed to become hushed – not that she would have been able to hear them over the resounding voices of the hall, but their faces were not jovial. In fact, Catrin saw only concern and worry. "What are you staring at, Catrin?" Orva asked from her seat at Catrin's right side.

"Nothing, Orva, just wishing I was able to ride Senta tonight. The sky is clear and the air is crisp – beautiful riding weather." She lied. Luckily, Orva seemed to accept her lie and Catrin wondered when she had begun to deceive successfully. Maybe, it was because in normal circumstance that would be exactly what Catrin would be thinking. She turned her attention back to the table as soon as Orva lost interest and found that her eyes met Éomer's dark brown ones. They were intense and she found herself feeling nervous. Looking away quickly, Catrin deliberated as to why the man seemed so hard all of the time. She wondered if her fascination with him during their first encounter came from her jealousy. She wished every day that women were allowed to join the ranks and she found it unfair that her gender was her greatest flaw.

Little did she know, Éomer continued to stare at Catrin in curiosity. Her long auburn hair had been braided at the crown but most of it cascaded down her back, catching the candlelight as it moved. His words with Lord Garberand had been difficult and the moment his eyes found Catrin, he found himself losing interest in the conversation. "I understand Lord Éomer. This is a grave situation indeed." Garberand said sternly. "There is no question. My duty is and always will be – to the Mark." Éomer felt his emotions churn as he heard those words. He knew that Catrin was also Garberand's duty and he felt as if he were tearing apart the family that the man had tried so hard to build.

"Thank you, My Lord." He said nonetheless.

"Garberand, please, I am no Lord after tonight." Éomer moved his head slightly in understanding and noticed that the meeting had ultimately ended. There was nothing more that could be said and it had been a long day already.

"The feast was grand, Garberand!" Éomer said politely.

"Shall we drink then?!" Garberand suggested trying to find anything to distract him from the words exchanged before.

"I believe you mean 'shall we drink more,' my friend!" Sir Beorn shouted, already feeling the hearty effects of the alcohol.

"Aye'! Music!" Garberand commanded and without delay, there were members of the household rushing to their instruments. An upbeat song began to play and Catrin found she could not resist the enticement and stood to join others in the center of the hall.

"Catrin!" Theomund hooted and reached out for Catrin's hand as he danced and twirled her around the floor. She laughed in response, letting Theomund's strong arms lead her in circles. Everyone that saw the pair dancing could see the pure joy in their eyes. They were young – they were happy – and they seemed to have no worries. Their innocence at that moment made Éomer frown. Life was not carefree. Their lands had been over run and soon even the boy that danced would be on horseback riding within his éored. Éomer felt guilty. He knew that tomorrow, when his men requested reinforcements, that the boy that made Catrin smile would take up arms and it would be his fault.

"My Lord, can I refill your mug?" A woman asked him, forcing him to look away from the beautiful girl dancing and beaming in front of him.

"No, I think I'll retire." The men that still sat at the table with him looked up as he stood. They went to stand as well but he motioned them to halt. "Good night sirs, I will see thee in the early morn'." With that, he went to leave the hall. He gave himself one more look at Catrin but to his disappointment, she was no longer in sight. Brushing off his disappointment as ridiculous, he proceeded to leave, deciding that he would check to see if Firefoot – his horse – was settled in the stables comfortably.

_I realize that I keep posting short chapters, but the next two chapters will be much MUCH longer! PROMISE!_

_Now, PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I am losing faith in the story without them!_

_Thank you, lexi02 _

_p.s. all answers about Éomer's visit will be revealed in the next chapter as well as a one on one Catrin/Éomer encounter. I put it off because I wanted their meeting to be natural not forced like some stories seem to do._


	5. Just A Child

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

_Thank you to all of my reviewers so far! _

_To answer a few questions that some of you have asked:_

…_Catrin is the baby from the first chapter._

…_questions in regards to her origins won't be answered for some time (it's meant to be a mystery and I enjoy having my readers try to put together their own conclusions as well)._

…_this is set right before the Two Towers, before Theodred dies and Eomer is banished._

**Chapter 4: Just A Child**

Éomer moved past the stationed guards and walked slowly to the stables just beyond the courtyard. The streets were quiet as most were now at the hall, indulging in the free ale and dance. He could faintly hear the cheers and the music from behind him but he was thankful for the momentary solitude and continued through the courtyard. To his surprise, it seemed that there were no grooms on duty this evening and he guessed that they were relieved of immediate duties because of the festivities. Grateful for the peace he found himself to be mistaken as he heard whispers and saw a dim, solitary light from within the stable ahead. He approached carefully, curious as he heard the hushed voices within. His hand grasped his sword, Guthwine, instinctively as he wondered if the possibility of a thief were present.

"Shhh, Theo! Pick up your feet when you walk!" A soft female voice brought Éomer closer to the doors.

"Why is it ya' _always_ make things difficult? We could have asked yar' father ya know!" An equally hushed male voice responded evidently irritated by the situation.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" The female voice questioned and giggled mischievously.

"Catrin, Senta is resting I'm sure! We can ride in the morn,'" Theomund pleaded identifying his companion. Éomer eased his hand from his side and decided to enter the stables to make himself known, but before he could, Catrin spoke, catching his attention again.

"Theo, look! Whose horse is this?" She asked softly.

"That is the Marshall's horse; they said he doesn't like the stables much. Guess he doesn't mind much really, he seems fine." Theomund pointed out. Éomer looked around the corner quickly and recognized the boy called Theomund as Catrin's dance partner earlier that evening.

"It is not odd. I would agree with his horse. Confinement is never easy." Catrin whispered and lightly brushed the horse's nose eliciting a slight huff from the stead. She laughed when her own mare breathed out in annoyance. "Oh Senta, are you jealous? I could never ignore you." And with that, Catrin reached out with her other hand to pet her beautiful white mare. "You bathed her well Theo, thank you for that."

"If ya want to thank me, let us return to the hall. I'm sure yar' father will be looking for ya." Theomund challenged Catrin. She simply looked at Senta's eyes and ignored the words of insistence.

"Your friend is right My Lady." The sudden deep male voice scared the two as they jumped back in surprise. Catrin's eyes were wider than Éomer thought possible as she digested the appearance of another in the stables.

"My Lord Éomer." The groom named Theomund bowed his head of jet-black hair when he recognized who had entered the room. Catrin bowed hers as well and pulled her hands from his horse immediately. "We were simply checking on the horses before we retired for the evening, My Lord. We know that the other grooms are at the feast and wanted to make sure that yar men's horses were settled in." The boy sputtered. He was a tall, scrawny boy, barely older than eighteen, and his incessant muttering made Éomer impatient.

"I care not. I came to see Firefoot before I rest." Éomer responded casually and approached his horse, passing Theomund without care. It almost made him feel awkward that he had been so curt with the boy but he decided not to dwell on its reasoning. "I see you have introduced yourself to my horse, my Lady."

"It is a beautiful beast. Strong." Catrin looked away from him as he came to greet Firefoot. The horse instantly recognized his master and grew restless to be free. Catrin put her hand up to touch the crown of the horse and smiled. "Spirited too." She whispered mostly to herself. Éomer sensed the longing in the girl's voice and could not help but look down at her small form. Her eyes were hidden beneath long, thick lashes and her mouth sat slightly parted, as she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.

"Firefoot has never failed me, he rides hard and fast. No other horse in my éored can compare." Éomer said proudly. He noticed that she did not look away from Firefoot but smiled gently at his words.

"Why are you here, My Lord?" She probed unexpectedly.

"I already said –" he was cut off as she pierced him with her eyes.

"Why are you in Freyden? What is it that you want from my father?" Her eyes were burning with determination and resolve. It almost caused Éomer to retreat, as he had never been so unsettled by a female before – except for his sister at times.

"That is business between Lord Garberand and Riders of the Mark. It is not my place to discuss with his child." He reproved. His words stung as Catrin began to anger.

"I am not a child!" She clenched her fists and stomped her foot in defiance. Her anger truly getting the best of her.

"Your display shows differently."

"I am seventeen!"

"A child." Catrin sucked in her breath, feeling her blood boil at the pigheadedness Éomer exhibited, but before she could rebuttal Theomund cleared his throat. Catrin paused and looked at her friend obviously annoyed by his interjection but stopped. She had almost forgotten he had been there and speculated as to what he thought of her now – huffing and puffing in front of the King's nephew. Her cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment and she looked back at the source of her outburst.

"I apologize My Lord. I lost my head. I think the ale tonight has slipped my temper." She admitted, trying hard not to throw dirt in the man's face instead.

"I meant no offense either my Lady." Éomer acknowledged and reprimanded himself inwardly for being so childish in the first place. His temper was foul indeed, and he could not understand his discourse towards Catrin. He truly did not see her as a _child._ Her curves were womanly and perfect in shape. They could elicit the reaction out of a man unwillingly. Her eyes were another vixen of their own and he lost himself in wondering how her hair felt to touch. Aside from that, her mind alone was sharp. He had spoken very little with her but she intrigued him nonetheless. There always seemed to be something battling within her head when he watched her – the girl was truly not a simple-minded child but a young woman waiting to be free from the restrictions of Freyden. He knew it. He felt it the moment he saw her look at his horse in yearning. It stirred in him as well. That same spirit that needed the open fields to be free – that spirit burned inside of him as well.

"I think the Lady and I are going to return to the hall, My Lord." Theomund broke his train of thought and he realized he had been staring at Catrin. She seemed slightly piqued by his lack of acknowledgement and it amused him. Blinking away the intrigue, he motioned his head to the awaiting groom and nodded his head in agreement.

"I was going to say earlier that I believe your father was looking for you Lady Catrin." Éomer added happy for the excuse to end the awkwardness. Catrin relaxed at the release of tension and rolled her eyes when she realized that she had to answer to her father for the third time that day. Slightly anxious she recognized that her father might be able to answer her questions.

"Oh?"

"I believe he was going to check the courtyard on the East wing – it is usually your hiding place in the evenings or that is what I've been told by him?" Éomer pondered.

"Yes, right, thank you My Lord." Catrin bowed her head and quickly exited the stables, not even waiting for Theomund to catch up. She ran as quickly as her skirts would let her – trying her hardest to get as far away from the insulting words behind. She knew he meant no harm in it – it was her own dreadful curiosity that brought him to feel cornered. Catrin knew she ambushed the man, and now she felt furious with herself.

When she finally reached the outer eastern courtyard, she saw a shadowed figure kneeling in front of her mother's roses. As a child, Catrin remembered her mother loved to pick one and place it in her braid for the holiday season. It was always a tradition. Mother and daughter with roses adorning their hair. Everyone awed at their beauty and she always believed it was because of the impeccable rose from her mother's garden. As she came closer to the roses, she saw the shadow to be none other than her father.

"Father?" He lifted his head to look at her but he could barely make out her figure in the darkness.

"Wandering as always, I see. And alone as well?" He pointed.

"I am like my father that way. The walls of the hall are too confining." She flattered her father, hoping that the worry she now saw on his face would disappear.

"I have come to enjoy this security." He whispered to no one really. His voice seemed dark and she decided to join him on the cold wet ground. The sat there for a while. Neither spoke a word for some time, as both seemed too caught up in their own thoughts to know what to say. Catrin however decided to break the thickening silence.

"You cannot hide your turmoil from me Father. I see you are fighting some battle within. What ails you?" She carefully spoke the words as not to overwhelm him but added, "What words has the Marshall brought to you?" He did not answer immediately. Honestly, he had no idea where to begin. Catrin fought her tongue and kept her thoughts quiet as her impatience grew. From her impatience, she looked at him closer, hoping to find some clue as to what he hid. In the moonlight, he looked older. If anything, he looked his age as the silvery light lit his face and accented the fine lines along his face. His eyes seemed worn as the skin sagged around them. His mouth looked sullen as his frown was overcome by the wrinkles she never seemed to notice before. Moreover, as the light cascaded down she noticed the gray seemed brighter in the night back fall. Finally, he sighed heavily.

"Prince Theodred has ridden to the southern villages of Rohan. He rides for more men to join in service of the Mark." The words confused her – why would it matter if the prince rode south. "The King's advisor has poisoned the land of Rohan. The poison has begun to spread passed the surrounding cities of Edoras and it reaches for ours. The orcs we have been battling are not random. They are part of a growing army – or so it seems. They are bearing the hand of Saruman." Catrin's heart began to race as her father continued. "A war is coming. Éomer believes it has begun but the King does not see the danger. We need men to protect the land as our King is not fit to do so at this time."

"Father – "Catrin began, hoping she could calm the suddenly distressed man in front of her, "I'm sure there are men willing to stand at arms. We will be – "

"They have asked for my return." He bluntly stated. His eyes never looked at her as he spoke those last words. He knew there was no need – he knew what her reaction would be. The sound of her catching her breath made him close his eyes at the inevitable.

"No." She said matter-of-factly.

"Catrin."

"No!" She yelled. "You served them for twenty five years! You are not the young rider any more. You are ONE man! Why do they need _you? _ There are men everywhere that are willing! _I_ am willing. _I _will go before you!" She had become erratic and desperate as the information started to sink in. She loved the idea of being of the éored. She loved her father's stories of battles and adventures while serving but she hated the waiting for his return. She hated the worry. It killed her mother when she fell ill. Word of Garberand being injured in battle had reached Freyden seven years ago and her already fever-stricken mother grew weaker from worry. "I cannot lose you too, Father." She chocked through looming tears.

"You will not lose me, Catrin." His voice softened as he reached for her trembling form. He noticed she held back tears to stay strong. That was his Catrin, always trying to be strong – an impenetrable wall. "They need leaders. They need men who can ride out and make decisions on instinct. They do not have time to train that into the youth. Sir Beorn is here because he is needed as well."

"How long until you leave?" She sniffed, leaning into her father's arms.

"Two days." The realization hit her and she pulled away from him.

"I need too…" She began as she stood, taking a step away from her father and then back again. "Think. I just need to go for a moment."

"Catrin?" His voice was worried and cautious as he tried to reach for her again.

"No, I need to go." With that, she sprinted from her father, leaving him alone with the roses as rain started to sprinkle from the dark sky.

_Okay, there it is, Chapter 4 – READ AND REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! It's really helpful when I have reviews – it keeps me excited to write more!_


	6. What is Fair

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

**Chapter 5: What is Fair**

The arrow sliced through the morning fog as it lodged itself in the twine and hay mark ahead. Catrin readied another arrow, exhaled, released, and split the preceding arrow in two. Her focus was impenetrable as she focused fully on the target, her breathing, the string resisting her strength, and the feathered end brushing against her cheek. There were things that she could control, and she put everything into the task. She released yet another arrow that joined the others on the target.

The third arrow quivered slightly after hitting its mark and Catrin realized the severity of her strength that morning. She settled her shoulders and let her arms fall to her side – her bow still gripped in her hand. It was a unique bow, the base made of a silver wood that Catrin had never seen before. The intricate carvings that strewn its base seemed somewhat foreign - almost magical as they swirled the wood flawlessly. The bow had no indication of human error and it made the bow that much more precious. Theomund had said it looked as if it were made by elves. She remembered that she mocked him for his judgment – after all, how would he know what such things looked like. Her father had given it to her on her twelfth birthday, a year after he gave her Senta. He always seemed to find rare gifts for her and it intrigued her as she wondered where he was able to find them.

"You continue to amaze me my dear child." A gruff voice spooked Catrin and she almost dropped her bow. It was her father.

"I heard the announcement at the hall this morning." She looked away from him as he came closer. "Theo joins the riders. The men and the _boys_ of the town have all made the choice to join. All of you leave and I have to sit here and wait?" Catrin spat in frustration and stomped her way to the target to retrieve her arrows. Her father stayed silent, not knowing how to answer his distressed daughter. "How is it that one man can ask so much from this town? What are we to do without our Lord, without our men?"

"There will be men here. The guard still stands." He informed her.

"A mere twenty men. Ha!"

"Do you realize what is at stake?" Garberand had had enough of the whining, trudged forward to grab his daughter's arms, and turned her to face him. "I will not let the evil from Mordor destroy Rohan. I will not watch as the men of the realm need me to help and fight. You are a child of a rider, Catrin, you _know_ what is right." He stared at her firmly never losing eye contact as her eyes softened in pain. Still she shed no tears.

"I know," she forced the words out and clenched her jaw, "but it is not fair."

"Fairness has never made sense in the world of men, Catrin. We are going to be at war – fairness will have to wait for another time." He said. "In my absence you will be the Lady Regent and rule until I return. "

"Is that what you do, father? I never realized you ruled this town?" She joked, knowing all too well that her father was never one for the power. This town never suffered from the abuse some lords would bestow on their cities.

"Hmph! It's hard to rule when I have a child that takes so much work to discipline." He responded and ruffled her hair with his large hand. "Now, show me your shot. I believe your elbow was dipping too low again."

"I made every shot."

"On a horse, the drop of the elbow is imperative."

"Fine." She snorted and walked defiantly back in order to shoot again. Before she was able to reload her bow, Theomund came rushing into the range. He seemed distressed at first but calmed when he met Catrin's eyes.

"My Lady," he began and Catrin rolled her eyes at his manners, "I need to speak with ya if My Lord Garberand doesn't mind." He acknowledged her father, eyes pleading.

"Go! I expect to see her back here before dinner. We have a lesson to continue." Lord Garberand shooed the young adults off and shook his head at the urgency in the boy's voice. He knew that joining the riders had scared Theomund greatly and the impending battles ahead made the boy fear for his life.

"What is it Theo?" Catrin persisted. The two had decided to converse in the stables in order to bring Senta out for a walk.

"I have joined the Riders of the Mark." Theomund answered opening the wooden door to release Senta.

"I heard." Catrin whispered, already aware of her friend's choice.

"Oh, I just…" He stopped keeping the reigns from Catrin as he tried to continue, "It's just that…" Catrin grabbed the reigns from him impatiently.

"Just say it, Theo." She demanded walking out of the stables to the small piece of land next to it for the horses to graze.

"I'm going to miss ya, Catrin." He admitted. "I'm going to wish ya are safe every night and every morn'" Catrin stopped and looked back at her friend in surprise. She would miss him of course and she knew that he would obviously miss her but his words meant more than that and it brought discomfort. "Catrin, I –"

"Theomund." She interrupted him, using his full name to make sure he understood that she was serious. "I will miss you. You are my best friend. I will be waiting for my best _friend_ to return safely, with stories to share, and battle scars to show off." She hoped her words were kind and to her contentment, he seemed to understand fully. Theomund smiled curtly and opened his arms to hug his best friend.

"We ride out before dawn tomorrow."

"I will be there. I will pray for protection as my father and you ride out. I will pray for all of you." Catrin proclaimed and pulled away from Theomund in order to avoid letting the direness of the situation sink in. Senta waited patiently, the horse's eyes seemed aware and empathetic to the circumstances and it amazed Catrin that her horse was so keen. "My beautiful Senta, shall we trot a bit?" With that, Theomund and Catrin went about their usual antics in the yard as if tomorrow did not bring such fear.

The men of Éomer's éored were restless. The tents of the camp had been taken down and packed away – every man waiting to leave the walls of Freyden. Éomer asked the men to be ready before dawn and it surprised him that the new additions to the éored were first at the gates. Young boys, fathers, sons, brothers, and old men had taken the oath to join and it stirred his pride just a bit knowing that these men were Rohirrim. He knew that the city of Freyden would be left without so many loved ones and he had to force himself to remember that they were not alone.

Rohan's cities, towns, and villages had given up so many to the cause and he would not let their sacrifice be in vein – especially for Catrin. It stunned him when he recognized the truth in that thought – that Catrin's sacrifice upset him more than he intended. Her anger towards him two nights before – in the stables made him furious that he could not protect her from losing another parent. He wanted to station his éored around Freyden and never leave the walls unprotected simply because the rare beauty lived inside. This realization made him stir all night and it made him leave the chambers of the hall to see if she might in fact be in the stables – unable to sleep as well. He was happy when he found her there and impressed that his suspicions were correct.

She wore a white cotton shift that reached her ankles, barely dusting the dirt of the ground. Atop the slightly sheer material, she had a solid green tunic tied loosely around her – keeping her modesty intact. When she looked at him, he noticed the emerald green of the tunic made her eyes seem greener than before and he smiled. "Lady Catrin." He stated quietly.

"My Lord," She nodded her head, "have you come to see Firefoot?" She asked innocently.

"I see you are spoiling him." He pointed and walked to join her, staring at the apple she fed his horse. She had already given one to Senta and yet she seemed jealous that her master was treating Firefoot as well.

"Sorry, but he seemed annoyed that Senta had a treat. I had to be fair. It is always good to be fair…" Her voice wandered off at the end and Éomer sensed that she was no longer talking about apples.

"No, I thank you. After all, I forgot to bring a treat for him." Éomer acknowledged Firefoot and Catrin returned to brushing Senta's slightly dusty mane. "How long have you had her?" Éomer asked, changing the subject.

"Almost six years. Father brought her home after he retired from his éored. Orva says that Senta is a rare horse. White horses of Senta's breed do not come from Rohan. She didn't say where they do come from though." Catrin rambled remembering the many occasions she pushed the horse master – Edgar – to tell her where her father found Senta but failed to get an answer. The memory made her smile unintentionally.

"She is rare. I have only heard stories of horses like this one. She looks like the Rivendell's or maybe a Silvan breed. Either way, your horse is Elven."

"Elven?"

"Her white is not bright but silvery in color – she is intelligent as well, and your father says you use no bit or bridle when riding and yet the horse knows your commands. You are lucky Lady Catrin, a rare gift indeed." Éomer's words made Catrin stare at Senta with wide eyes. She never thought that her horse could be of such a great lineage, and it made her swell with pride.

"Amazing." She breathed.

"She is loyal to you alone I'm sure?" He inquired.

"No one else can ride her, My Lord."

"Firefoot will let my sister ride her but that is all." He added realizing he missed his sister who patiently awaited his return to Edoras.

"You ride out soon." Éomer almost did not hear the whisper that came from the young woman beside him. Her demeanor had changed as if she abruptly realized that the sun would soon rise. Éomer knew it was not a question but a statement and he felt the guilt rise within him, and all of his previous emotions came back in full flood.

"I wanted to see you before we rode out at dawn." His honesty seemed out of place to Catrin and she looked at him quizzically. Éomer waited for a response but was anxious when she gave none. "I know you are angry with me. It is I who takes your father away." Catrin returned her gaze to Senta when he mentioned her father. So many emotions overcame her at that moment and she struggled to find the right words.

"It is his duty." She started, interrupting Éomer before he could respond, "and I am not angry with you, My Lord." She decided to look at him and noticed his eyes had hints of hazel in the depths of brown.

"A relief." He said simply, noticing that she now stood merely inches from him. He could feel her warmth as he tried to keep her gaze without faltering. His heart seemed to pound faster and he could feel his muscles tense around his throat as he tried to swallow. His mouth went dry the moment he attempted to speak again. "I –" he sputtered.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to concern you. I was angry but not at you, truly." Catrin insisted trying to decipher his discomfort but he cleared his throat and took a step back.

"I will see you when we ride out, My Lady. Please stay safe when we leave and I will do what I can to return _all _of Freyden's men to you and your town." He promised then bowed his head and left the stables quickly leaving Catrin baffled and flustered behind him.

They rode out at dawn and Éomer watched solemnly as Catrin tried hard not to show her sorrow at the gates. Lord Garberand kissed both her cheeks and then her forehead before he released her to the comforting side of Orva. Lord Garberand's and Orva's eyes met and he tried so hard to see what the two exchanged but the moment was too brief for him to read. Instead, he rode up next to the Lord of Freyden and gave him a look of determination before he spoke to the people at the gates. "People of Freyden, the realm has reached a point of war! Mordor threatens the peace we have fought so hard to keep. When we return, peace will follow this éored." His words elicited cheers from his men and some sobs from the women parting from their sons and husbands. He noticed Catrin had moved away from Orva and now stood as close to the gates as possible, gripping the wall tightly.

At that moment, as he saw her striking eyes filled with worry, he wished he had been braver when he spoke with her last. He wished he spoke the words he intended and yet instead he sat atop his horse looking at her looking at him and then her father, and then Theomund. Catrin seemed unable to stop darting her eyes between the three men and it made him wonder if she sought him out because she felt the same. The thought went unanswered as Sir Beorn spoke, "we ride out Lord Éomer?"

"We ride!" He agreed and tore his eyes from Catrin and turned his horse to ride South, to meet his cousin. He never looked back as the éored rode out, leaving Freyden behind.

_La de da… soooo much is about to happen! R&R my faithful reviewers!_

_LUVS!_

_- Lexi02_


	7. Lady Regent

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

**Chapter 6: Lady Regent**

_"My dear, Catrin, my dear, dear Catrin… My strong daughter with a fierce heart." Lord Garberand's words were full of love and devotion as he held his daughter tightly. "I love you my child." He whispered into her ear before kissing both cheeks, then her forehead._

_ "I love you too Father." Catrin choked out before she felt him release her arms as Orva stepped forward to bring her comfort_.

The sun was bright and blinding and yet Catrin felt as if the memory was only moments ago and yet it had been days. She kept replaying it repeatedly in her head still wishing that all of it had been a dream. She wanted so much to believe that her father would be at the range waiting for her to train with him, and she wanted to believe that Theo was in the stables trying his best to avoid yet another wicked idea that would get them both in trouble. However, her Father was not there, and Theo was not in the stables. She felt completely alone.

Deciding she needed some solitude, Catrin elected for a ride along the walls of the city. She quickly made her way to the stables, avoiding the curious eyes of the few guards left at the hall. To her dismay, the place made her feel lonelier as she came across the vacant stall where Firefoot once stayed. The emptiness of the stall released a slight sob from her as she thought of Éomer. Guilt overcame her as she became conscious of the fact that she never said goodbye to the Marshall. It baffled her. Never did she think that she would miss a man she knew for such a short time.

Senta sensed Catrin's trepidation and huffed in concern. "Hey, shh, I'm okay…" Catrin touched Senta's forehead trying to reassure the mare, "How about we stretch your legs?" Senta exhaled again, gaining excitement to be free of the stable walls. "You are so easy to please." Catrin brought Senta out and mounted her swiftly. Despite her father's lessons as a girl, Catrin never felt comfortable using a bridle and the thought reminded her of the conversation she had with Éomer. "You know Senta, Lord Éomer called you a rare beauty." The horse reared slightly and trotted towards Freyden's gates. "I wonder if he was right. An elfin horse – amazing really…" Catrin continued not realizing Senta had led them past the gates to the open fields. Catrin wanted, more than anything, to ride out further towards the mountains – as she did with Theomund so often – but she felt guilty if she did so alone. Her father asked her to stay safe – she knew he meant for her not to leave the safety of Freyden's walls. At that moment, Senta neighed, bringing Catrin back to the present. Knowing that Senta needed a good gallop, Catrin squeezed her legs slightly giving Senta permission to ride hard.

Senta picked up speed and rounded the first corner of the stone wall, keeping close to the wall as she galloped. Catrin leaned frontward, holding tightly to the reins as they gained momentum. It was freeing, the air in her lungs and the wind in her hair. All she could hear were Senta's huffs and the air striking her form as they rounded another corner. Catrin let herself get lost in the moment, forgetting just for a second, of all the things that worried her. The relief was short lived as Catrin and Senta rounded the third corner. Her eyes caught sight of a dark mass appearing over the nearest mountain ahead. A flock of crows flew ahead of the dark mass, approaching the city at an alarming rate. Senta reared confirming Catrin's own discomfort at the sudden appearance. "Whoa girl." She spoke trying to calm her horse. It did little to calm Senta as Catrin's own concern forced the horse's response. "We need to get back to the gates!"

Senta took the urgency in her voice as a command and sped hastily towards the entrance of the town. Catrin's worry only increased as she noticed the absent watch tower to the right of the gates. The city was unaware of the uninvited group and she yelled out hoping there were guards near the gates. "Set the alarm! Set the alarm!" She repeated hurriedly waiting for any sign of a response. One mere guard came out to meet her at the gates and she dismounted Senta gracefully. "There! Look!" Catrin pointed behind her just as the crows came flying over them.

"What in the realm?" The guard jumped and looked alarmingly at Catrin.

"Look!" She pointed yet again at the dark mass. The guard dropped his spear and ran back into the gates.

"RING THE ALARM!" The man hollered and Catrin looked behind her again to see that the impending threat was much closer than before. A bell sounded from the tower and it shook Catrin's very core as she contemplated what to do next. "My Lady! Hurry!" The guard beckoned her back into the city and she complied, Senta close behind. "Are there others with you Lady Catrin?"

"No, sir." Catrin answered the blatantly frightened man. "What is it?" She questioned, releasing Senta to follow the guard as others joined them. They ascended the stairs of the watchtower with one other guard and the man retrieved a spyglass from the table.

"Look, My Lady." He handed it to her quickly as they walked to the edge. The sight came into full view and she gasped. Hundreds of Wildmen and Orcs came jogging towards Freyden. Some had axes, some had bows, and some carried swords and shields. Catrin knew what Wildmen came to cities for – women, food, and goods. Orcs searched for nothing but carnage and she swallowed back her fear, handing the spyglass back to the guard.

"Do we have time to evacuate?" She whispered. His lack of response nauseated Catrin and she felt the fear finally come back up to meet her mouth. She heaved, but nothing came.

"My Lady?" The guard rushed to her side but she put her hand up to stop him.

"We need to close the gates and station the guards on the wall!" She ordered.

"The gates are closed and the guards are ready to take up arms but," He hesitated. Catrin looked him in the eye knowing all too well, what he avoided. There were only twenty men to protect the city. Twenty men against hundreds.

"What is your name Sir?" She stood up straight to survey the situation below.

"Sherrys, temporary Captain of Freyden's guards, My Lady." His admittance proved just how unprepared they were for the impending attack. "Lady Catrin, are we to fight?" He asked urgently. The question scared her and she knew that as Lady Regent of Freyden it was her duty to command their next move.

"How quickly can we evacuate the women and children?"

"We have no time!" He protested but Catrin walked past him to start the descent down the stairs to the awaiting guards. "My Lady?"

"They will have time if we make time." Her words left Sherrys confused and he followed her to the bottom of the tower. Catrin gauged the men in front of her and noticed that most were gathering townspeople from their homes. She recognized one of the men to be a guard of the stables at night – Theomund had called him Eadlyn. Without wasting more time Catrin breathed in and spoke fervently, "We are about to face an attack." The moment the sentence left her mouth Catrin felt stupid. She had no idea how to speak to these people in front of her and it frustrated her to no end.

"Lady Catrin!" A voice caught her attention from behind the crowd that formed in front and Catrin saw Orva break through those that blocked her way. Seeing her eldest mentor and surrogate mother's face brought some relief to Catrin's frantic nerves and she smiled tightly at the woman.

"Orva," Catrin acknowledged her and then looked at the others. "We have a decision to make. Do we all stay and hope to live or do some stay to assure the lives of others?" The question rung through the ears of all in Freyden now as the alarm had brought everyone to the city gates.

"What do you mean, Catrin?" Orva questioned.

"I mean that we give some a fighting chance." Catrin had made up her mind. She would not let the people of Freyden sit behind walls awaiting death. The walls were wooden barriers that could be burnt to the ground within hours, maybe even minutes. Some could flee Freyden from behind the Hall where a second exit stood, leading into the forest behind Freyden. "Sherrys?" She asked for the guard that still stood behind her.

"Yes, My Lady?" He came rushing to her front and stood at attention awaiting a command.

"Choose one man from your guard to lead women and children out of the city from behind the Hall. The rest of you will gather as many arrows as possible, all of your necessary weaponry and line at the wall. We will not let the city burn without a fight!" Her orders were received respectfully and Catrin saw the fear written over the people of Freyden's faces. Children clung to their mother's in confusion and some women refused to leave their husband's that were within the guard. Thankfully, Sherrys took heed and rapidly barked orders to organize the many scattered, frightened, and chaotic townspeople. Catrin's orders had been made, and she was not going to concern herself with the evacuation. The herd of evil grew close and she had work to do.

"What do you think you are doing, Catrin?" Orva scolded Catrin vehemently grasping her arm before she could run off to retrieve her bow. "You are _not_ staying here!"

"And where else do you think I should go?" Catrin argued annoyed at Orva's brazenness.

"With the women and children! Are you mad child? Do you really think that you can stay and fight?" Catrin tore her arm from Orva's grasp and turned to face the woman.

"I am Lady Regent, Orva! What am I supposed to do? This is my duty. You know it is true. You know father would do the same!" She spoke almost yelling at the poor woman that simply feared for her life. "I know what you must think of this but put aside your care for me, Orva, and you know my duty is here."

"Catrin…" She started but Catrin hugged her before more words could be spoken.

"Go, Orva, please! I will worry if you are here." She pressed holding Orva's eyes with a stubborn gaze.

"I will not, child. I will never leave Freyden. It is my home." Orva said giving any excuse to stay by Catrin – her charge, her little wild-child. "Now fetch your bow, Catrin. It seems that your training will end here!" Orva persisted, forcing Catrin to leave the moment as it was - decided. Catrin nodded and sprinted off to Senta, mounted her, and then quickly galloped through the streets of disarray towards the stables. Her heart raced in apprehension – this was it – this was how it would end.

_Read and Review please! Last chapter barely got any hits and it was slightly disheartening… this story is going to be a VERY long story just so everyone knows. The next two chapters are actually the rest of part 1 of 6 parts I have planned – all following the movie until after…. It is going to be epic _

_So… REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!_

_Luvs!_

_-Lexi02_


	8. Courage

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

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**Chapter 7: Courage**

Her bravery dwindled the closer she got to the stables. Everything was about to change and Catrin knew she was not ready. How could she be ready? She had always glorified her father's war stories and now she found herself a fool for it. She was no rider of the Mark. She had no means to fight hand to hand when the invaders eventually broke through Freyden's walls.

"Breathe, Catrin, Breathe." She scolded herself when she entered the stables and grabbed her bow. Her fingers gripped the weapon tightly and a surge of energy coursed through her veins. All of her doubts diminished. All of her pessimism forgotten – the strength she felt was unbelievable and Catrin thought it came from her bow. "Impossible…" She whispered but she had no time to contemplate the unexplained sensation as more screams came from the streets.

Catrin shouldered her bow and grabbed her quiver of arrows, exiting the stables, avoiding townspeople running towards the north side of the town. Senta waited patiently for Catrin beside the stables, her eyes focusing on the door. Catrin mounted Senta and ushered her back to the southern wall. When she reached the wall, Sherrys ran to her side and spoke, "They are in full sight now, Lady Catrin. The townspeople are evacuating the Northern wall with one of my men."

Catrin nodded and left Senta with the other horses near the watchtower's stairs. She quickly ascended the stairs, thankful she had chosen to wear breeches that morning for their mobility. To her surprise, the guards were not alone. Along the top of the wall stood women with clubs, swords, and bows. The determination on their faces only made Catrin stronger and she acknowledged them without questioning their need to stay. She understood – many were older with their young families just leaving for the forest. Some were young mothers, parting from their children in hopes that their fight would veil their escape. Then there was Orva, an old, wise, and fierce woman standing with her head held high not admitting any sign of fear. These people were Freyden's last stand and what they faced would not conquer them easily. The assailants would have something to fear.

"Lady Catrin," Orva approached her cautiously, "I ask one last time… please abandon your duty here and flee!" Orva knew Catrin would refuse but the public rebuff would give hope to those that were about to face foreseeable death.

"I cannot Orva, and I will not." Catrin beheld those around her in respect and continued, "We face death, this is certain, but what do we stand for?" She asked rhetorically as they stood straighter from her words. "Hope! Courage!" She began.

"Family!" One woman added.

"Freyden!" Sherrys hollered. The cheers that followed brought much needed courage as Catrin saw the stampede coming closer.

"Sherrys!" She called.

"My Lady?" He came quickly to face her ready for her orders.

"What do we have to fight with other than these weapons?"

"Two of my guards have gathered arrows dipped in pitch as well as spears." The idea of fire atop a wooden wall made her fearful but it would cause the damage that they needed.

"And for shielding from their archers?" Catrin inquired, feeling the wall shake slightly from the nearing charge.

"Wooden doors broken off houses… The shields we have do not have enough girth to protect from arrows." Sherrys' words impressed Catrin and for a moment, she felt they were prepared for anything.

"Thank you, Sherrys. Now, bring the spears and arrows along the wall and a torch." She looked behind her, the hoard of orcs and Wildmen had arrived, yelling and taunting them. "Hurry!"

"Right away, Lady Catrin!" Sherrys ran off and ordered five of his guard to keep the gates and the rest came to the top of the wall with the arrows, spears, and a torch. Catrin's heart raced. This was the moment and she knew nothing could save her from it now.

"Orva?" Catrin looked to her right. Orva returned her gaze and smiled softly grabbing Catrin's hand.

"I love you, child." Orva released Catrin's hand and picked up a rock; readying it to throw at the nearest target. The evil below continued their jeering as a group ran for the gates.

"BRACE THE GATES!" Catrin heard Sherrys yell to his men. In response, Catrin lifted her arm signaling the others to ready their weapons. Many lit their spears and arrows finding a mark.

"Aim for those at the gates!" Catrin dropped her arms. "FIRE!" Burning spears, rocks, and arrows started to cloud the air, taking victims below. Catrin aimed her bow at the strongest looking men and orcs, hoping to take them down. Many fell from her precise aim.

Arrows came from above and Orva screamed for shields, "COVER!" Frantically the crouched and lifted the wooden doors above their heads. The sound of arrows meeting wood angered Catrin and once the thuds ceased she roared and reloaded her bow, shooting archers as quickly as she could. Sadly, she was not fast enough and archers were shooting their own burning arrows. The flames danced as the arrows soared towards them atop of the wall.

"Watch out! COVER!" She warned and again all of them crouched and lifted their shields as the arrows met wood again. This time the fire besieged the doors they held above them. Catrin and Orva saw the danger and threw their burning shields off the wall and onto the enemy below. Others followed suit and when Catrin heard a crash at the gates, she knew they were almost breached. "Retreat to the hall!" Catrin ordered, seizing Orva's hand as she pulled her along towards the stairs. A scream grabbed her attention as more arrows flooded the sky. A small, old woman fell, an arrow lodged in her back. She was dead before she even hit the floor. "Hurry!" Catrin insisted not wanting to lose more on the wall.

Guards and armed women descended the stairs frantically only to see axes in their town's gates. Fire burned everywhere now and smoke billowed across the streets. "To the hall!" Catrin informed the guards that held the gates trying to keep the invaders at bay. One looked at her desperately and shook his head, eyes large and fervent.

"Run you fools! They are almost–" but his words were cut off as a sword pierced through the door he pushed and into his side. Blood dribbled from the man's mouth and Sherrys ran forward to take the dying man's place against the door.

"Lady Catrin! GO!" Sherrys begged Catrin to run and part of her dreaded leaving the man but Orva drew her fervently. Catrin ran to Senta and urged others to mount the horses. The remaining guards pulled the women up to sit behind them and Catrin mounted Senta bringing Orva with her. With one last look at Sherrys and the four other men, Catrin kicked and urged Senta to lead.

"Senta, ride!" She ordered and the horse led the retreating group to the outer side of the hall where many townspeople had escaped through before. Catrin dismounted Senta once behind the hall and ushered the others to do the same. An echoing crash beyond indicated the gates had been broken and their fates were certain.

"Your orders, Lady?" A guard asked frantically. Catrin paused and questioned her own doubts. What orders? What would they do next to delay their inevitable demise? Roars of savaging Wildmen and orcs resonated behind her and she instinctively turned her at the direction of its source. The instinct did not go without a blessing as her eyes came across the drizzling stream at her feet. Her eyes followed the flowing water to the stonewall of the Great Hall of Freyden. Catrin could not help but smile as her eyes landed on the barred outlet at the base. Her father's constructers had built it to drain the rainwater to avoid flooding. It was small and the men would have trouble getting through but it was not impossible.

"The water!" Catrin pointed. "It leads into the forest. It's built underneath the wall and it comes out in the forest's river!" Suddenly she felt renewed hope as she realized something she had not thought possible. They could actually escape as well.

"And we have a chance! They would not follow the stream immediately. They will plunder the town before thinking to do so!" Orva added, confirming Catrin's own thoughts. It was a small outlet that they had used to drain water but it had not rained in a fortnight they would not be overrun by water. Theo and she had taken the trip as children almost drowning. The adventure ended with a great search party led by Catrin's father and the memory made her nostalgic – she wished her father were there to help her save their people.

"Go! Hurry!" There was no time to waste as the shouts came closer. One of the guards knocked the barred gate away and then ushered for the women to go in the tunnel. It was a drop to the bottom and he helped by slowly letting each woman down, holding their hands till they were close enough to let go. Orva finally entered on Catrin's insistence but not without a huff and a slight muttering about being the elder. Before Catrin could follow her, she quickly walked up to Senta. She knew this moment was going to come and she realized that she could not leave Senta to the invaders.

"My Lady, we must go, now!" A guard beckoned frantically.

"The horses." She pleaded. The guard looked at her as his own realization surfaced. Rohirrim people valued their horses almost as much as their own children.

"Release the back gate and close it quickly behind them. They will run free from the town. They are smart enough to do so." He commanded. A couple men stepped forward to lift the bar off of the small exit that the women and children had used to reach the forest. Catrin quickly turned to Senta, meeting her dark eyes with her green ones. Her hands smoothed over the horse's nose, up to her forehead, and then down her neck.

"Run hard, Senta. Meet me at the forest's river." She whispered hoping Senta understood her words. "Be safe…" She kissed the mare's nose as the men successfully lifted the bar from the gate. The clash of metal that followed stunned Catrin to her spot. Two Wildmen came barreling through the now open door laughing sickeningly at seeing the men and horses. The guard that opened the door was struck down, an axe to his chest, blood pouring from his now gaping wound.

Catrin reacted instinctively and shut the barred door to the flooding outlet behind her, knowing that the others would have to move on without them. She thought of Orva and prayed she would continue and not bring attention to their escape route. She shook the thought away in order to face the fight ahead. She loaded an arrow to her bow, pulled back, and released, lodging an arrow through the taller Wildman's eye socket. His cry was cut short by the death shot Catrin dealt him. The other Wildman roared and his strength overcame the last remaining guard that stood between them. The guard weakly swung his sword but the beast of a man swatted it away with his right axe and beheaded him with his left.

Catrin fumbled for another arrow but she found her quiver empty. She stood, defenseless against a fierce savage. Senta neighed loudly, reared standing tall gaining the Wildman's attention as one of the guard's horses reared, and came down on him from behind. Catrin darted forward and snatched the axe he dropped and quickly swung down onto the man's neck, severing his head roughly. The act brought bile to her lips but she swallowed not letting it waste any more time. She heard yelling and crashing in the hall from above and she gasped. They were looting, destroying, and searching for the townspeople to no avail. The Wildmen were yelling obscenities hoping to bring a whimper to a hiding woman, but there were none to whimper. Catrin smiled at the small victory and quickly grabbed arrows from a fallen guard and refilled her quiver. She mounted Senta, as she could not enter the outlet now. Orcs rounded the corner and she could see their shadows along the wall. Senta stomped her hooves in anticipation. Catrin waited for them to see her and then she kicked Senta's sides, riding out through the back gate – the guards' horses following as well.

An arrow flew past her right ear and she looked over her shoulder to see orcs shooting from the back gate. In a matter of seconds, Senta's strong legs had brought them out of range and Catrin grinned defiantly. She had avoided death and she knew that her exit would lead them away from the exit the others took if they chose to come looking for the townspeople. "Ha!" The laughter was uncontrollable as she realized her life had been spared, that her town had perished but its people did not.

Deciding to look at Freyden again, she felt sorrow creep up ceasing her laughter. Smoke clouded into the sky – a beacon of destruction. They had not won. The evil still took what was theirs savagely and they did so without remorse.

Senta huffed and Catrin's attention returned to the gates where Wildmen saddled horses and rode out in her direction. "RIDE!" She bellowed. The other horses ran off, and Senta neighed as she took Catrin north of the forest. "They won't catch s Senta, not today." She said confidently and gripped the reins as Senta rode harder and faster – far from the ashes of Freyden.

vVvVv

_Whew! That was a fun chapter to write! _

_Per usual, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! The more reviews I get, the more likely I am to update! It's a good motivator _

_Luvs!_

_Lexi02_


	9. Hope

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Eomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

**Chapter 8: Hope**

The scout came hurdling over the hill as his horse almost fell to the ground from exhaustion. "Where is Lord Éomer?" He yelled in alarm. Riders made way for the man, their eyes glued to his ragged form. Garberand appeared out of a grand-looking tent to just as the scout fell off his horse.

"Bring me a healer!" Garberand ordered but the scout lifted his hand in protest, trying to speak through his panicked breaths.

"NO! eh – heh." The words caused the scout to cough uncontrollably and Garberand quickly passed him a canteen. The scout gulped the water, coughing slightly, but the wetness dampened his throat successfully. "The smoke! It is Freyden!" The words cut through Garberand as his worst fear came to past. The billowing cloud of smoke they had seen the day before, had in fact been a town burning to ruins.

"Are you positive, boy?" Garberand questioned.

"I saw it! I rode as close as possible, the orcs and Wildmen travel south of the town – along the forest line. Freyden is a ruin, sir!" He exclaimed. Garberand stood and backed away from the exhausted scout as others stepped forward to help him. The news of Freyden brought chills to Garberand and he could not shake them.

"Garberand, we must report to Lord Éomer." Sir Beorn came from the tent he had exited earlier and beckoned Garberand and the scout to the East end of the camp. Garberand moved quickly, not realizing he began to run towards the Lord's tent. The three entered without announcing themselves. Éomer stood behind a grand table that held a map of Middle Earth. Wooden pieces, representing the many éoreds were painted maroon and black pieces that marked the enemies were placed on the map. Éomer looked up alarmingly at the sudden arrival and stood straighter the moment he saw the concern on Beorn and Garberand's faces. The scout behind them could barely stand indicating he rode hard with urgent news.

"It's Freyden, my lord!" Garberand yelled out. He was panicking and he dreaded he would not stop. Éomer's heart stopped at the words.

"The smoke?" He questioned praying he misunderstood the suggestion.

"Aye', Freyden has been attacked, and left in ashes." Sir Beorn confirmed Éomer's fear and Garberand stepped forward forcefully.

"We must ride out!" He cried. "Not a moment to waste!" His resolve was breaking before their eyes and Éomer felt his own fears start to creep up menacingly. He worried for Catrin. His heart started to race uncontrollably as he saw her green eyes, auburn hair, and innocent smile in his head.

"We still need to meet the Prince in a fortnight." He began but realized his mistake to late. Garberand's eyes became wild in disbelief.

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? THERE COULD BE SURVIVORS! CATRIN IS THERE! MY DUTY IS TO PROTECT THEM!" He roared in rage, but Sir Beorn grabbed him before the man could react.

"I am fully aware of our duty, Garberand!" Éomer spoke evenly, trying to hold his tongue knowing the outburst was his fault. "I will send Sir Beorn with most of the éored to meet the Prince. The others, a small company, will return to Freyden immediately! We will ride out now! I will lead them…" He paused and stepped forward to place his hand on Garberand's shoulder. "She is a fighter Garberand, she is smart too – I am sure she is alright!" Éomer insisted, partially for Garberand, but also for his own sanity. He could not understand it then but since his leave of Freyden, he realized his unsettling emotions were a product of something unfamiliar to him. He had fallen for the Lady Catrin and he was not about to regret never telling her that night in the stables. He had to believe she was alive. He had to believe he would have another chance to tell her his true intent.

/l\o/v\e/!\

The ride was hard and took nearly two days, but the remnants of smoke still lingered when they reached the ruins of Freyden. The bodies of orcs and Wildmen at the gates were strewn in the grass, and their rotting stench made it unbearable for the riders. Éomer lifted his tunic to cover his face as he tried to breathe through his mouth. Theomund had joined them and Éomer saw the young man slump over hurling onto the ground. Garberand looked around in disgust and his heart beat hard when he saw the burnt gates covered in blood. "There was resistance." He spoke sternly, trying to bring himself to feel pride for his people.

"They were not surprised it seems." Éomer confirmed, noting the many fallen orcs and Wildmen were burnt as well, arrows and spears stuck from their bodies. The people of Freyden had fought and his vision became clouded as he thought of the petite form of Catrin screaming when they finally broke through the gates. He shook the thought away and beckoned the men into the city. To his surprise, he saw no bodies of townspeople at the gates. It made no sense to him and he looked around questioningly.

"LOOK!" Theomund yelled and Éomer looked at the direction he pointed. Garberand had all rode quickly ahead as Éomer focused on a crowd of people come from behind burnt houses and structures that stood unsteady. The people were dirty, tired, and weak but they trudged out to meet the men of the éored. Éomer scanned the faces desperately for the green-eyed beauty but his hope was diminished as he her not.

"CATRIN? CATRIN?" Garberand yelled, dismounted from his horse, running desperately to the crowd of townspeople. An almost unrecognizable Orva came from behind the group to meet the worried man. He stopped abruptly, "Orva?" He whispered. She approached Garberand cautiously, her eyes full of sorrow. She shook her head and the cries from Garberand could be heard for miles. "No! No!" Garberand fell to his knees in despair and Orva knelt, wrapping her weak arms around his form. She desperately tried to calm him so she could speak as Éomer and Theomund rode close to see the exchange. The tears in Garberand's eyes spoke louder than words and both men felt the air escape their lungs – leaving them breathless and inconsolable.

"Stop, My Lord! It is not what you think!" Orva pressed trying to shake Garberand to stop his heartbreak. He stopped, looked at her and spoke severely.

"What do you mean?" His voice was frighteningly hollow as if the words were not his own. Éomer dismounted as did Theomund and they both walked swiftly to question Orva as well.

"Orva? Where is she?" Theomund yelled desperately.

"Her body is not here! We buried them all, but she was not found! She must have run after the Wildmen found us… when we returned she was gone– Senta is gone as well! That horse was with her the last I saw her and I know she would not leave Catrin's side." Orva exclaimed trying to bring hope to her declaration. Her eyes met Éomer's at that moment and she saw his anxiousness at her words. She knew of his fondness for her Catrin, she had seen it at the feast, the moment he met her for the first time, and the moment he had to leave her many weeks ago. "Lord Éomer! We must find her, she is alone, and I fear she was followed. The orcs and Wildmen left the town but which way, I do not know."

"They went south." Éomer exclaimed as he realized Garberand mounting his horse. "Sir Garberand? Where are you going?"

"I need to find her! My baby is ALONE! I left her hear, ALONE!" The guilt was destroying Garberand and Éomer fought his own instinct to join the man. Theomund went to do mount his own horse but Éomer pulled him back down.

"Do not act rashly! We know not where she fled." Éomer commanded. "We cannot waste time riding in the wrong direction!" Garberand steadied his frantic circling of his horse and looked at Éomer shamefully. He was losing his mind from fear, from grief, from not knowing where his daughter was or if she was even alive.

"I am sorry, My Lord. I simply meant–"

"I know what you meant." Éomer said and then turned to Orva quickly. "Where did you last see Lady Catrin?" He questioned.

"Behind the Hall, we were fleeing through the draining well when she was no longer behind me! I heard shouts and yelling but I could not get back up, she had barred the entrance again. I did not want to leave her, My Lord! I had no way of saving her…" Her voice trailed off and the motherly woman started to sob from guilt. She had abandoned her charge and it broke her very being that she had done so.

"Show me." He demanded and the woman nodded turning to lead the riders to the Hall – at least, where the hall once stood.

/l\o/v\e/!\

Éomer knelt to the ground, tracing his hand lightly over the disturbed dirt and soot behind the Hall. He quickly followed the trails of hooves, man, woman, and orc to the exit of the wall. The gate still stood and he carefully avoided the tracks that remained. Garberand watched anxiously, praying the Lord's tracking skills would lead them towards his daughter.

"What have ya' found, My Lord." Theomund asked urgently. Éomer ignored him and continued his focus, trying desperately to recreate the scene that unfolded there before. The blood that now mucked the dirt did not faze him, his attention was on the fact that she had escaped – he knew it, and he felt it.

"She rode North it seems." He finally spoke and walked to Garberand forcefully. "We ride out, NOW!" He commanded. "There are other tracings that followed her…" He admitted to Garberand quietly but Theomund reacted incessantly.

"What is it? Why are ya' whispering?" He demanded. Éomer rounded on the boy, leaving Garberand to the realization that his daughter was not _alone_ but in fact, being pursued.

"I am your Lord, your Marshall, and your commander! You will not address me as such ever again!" He reprimanded the now cowering man. Theomund nodded in understanding as Éomer turned away to ease his temper. Everything was heightened. All of his emotions were on edge. The only thing he cared about at this moment was finding Catrin alive. "Now, Garberand, MEN!" He addressed his riders. "We ride out!" He whistled for Firefoot and mounted him swiftly leading the riders out the back gate with Garberand beside him – he rode hard, knowing that every second counted. He would not lose her – he told himself – and leaned forward as Firefoot quickened the pace.

_Hello, my faithful readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I loved writing it, but it was definitely hard for me to do – I had trouble writing the emotions of all three men that care for Catrin without it being too lengthy. Next chapter will be all Catrin and Senta _

_PLEASE R&R my luvs!_

_Lexi02_


	10. The Promise

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Éomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

**Chapter 9: The Promise **

The air was crisp as Catrin and Senta rode north, along the forest line. She had been riding through the night, trying to avoid the pursuing Wildmen. She was tired, her legs sore from the nonstop gallop. Senta was trying to continue but her pace faltered and Catrin knew she would not be able to continue much longer.

"It's okay Senta, you can slow down. We need to rest." She patted the exhausted mare soothingly looking around for any sign of danger. "We should find shelter in the trees." Senta came to a stop, letting Catrin slide off her back. The forest line was thick and eerie but Catrin knew that it was the safest place for shelter. Grabbing onto Senta's reins she walked into the forest hoping desperately that nothing lay waiting for her in the darkness.

A sudden crack in the distance jumped her and she quickly released the reins and drew her bow. The feel of the arrow in her grasp and the resistance from the string gave her strength and she continued cautiously into the forest.

The air was damp and clean. She breathed in deeply, letting the air fill her lungs. Her eyes began to sting from unshed tears and she blinked furiously to evade them. To her relief she came across a fallen tree whose roots had lifted the earth – creating a cavern-like shelter.

"Thank the heavens." She praised and quickly grabbed the fallen brush to help conceal them once they had settled. Catrin led Senta into the cavern and the horse slowly lay down against the base of the tree. Catrin followed suit and pulled the branches over them – setting them naturally in order to avoid suspicion.

Senta brushed her nose against Catrin's neck exhaling; causing a chill to escape Catrin. She smiled and acknowledged her, leaning back into the mare's chest. The warmth from Senta relaxed Catrin immediately and she rested her head in the crook of her neck. The moment she closed her eyes she was asleep – not caring if she were actually safe as exhaustion took over.

_She felt as if her legs were walking on air – almost gliding along the sunlit forest ground. She tried to look up but the sun that pierced through the trees blinded her instantly. A soft humming came from ahead of her and Catrin realized that the forest was not as it seemed. The trees were lush and draped in white flowers. Unrecognizable birds flew from branch to branch, watching Catrin's every move. The light that passed through the green glistened – catching water droplets making them sparkle like crystals. Catrin felt a strange surge of warmth fill her body. The humming continued and then it became clearer as she heard a women's voice. It seemed so familiar and yet so distant. She tried to chase the voice but her pace would not change as she continued to glide through the trees._

"_Erisanna… light of my light. Erisanna… light of this impending night." The words became clearer and Catrin felt something shift in the air. Darkness started to engulf the forest – hiding the impeccable and magical beauty. The voice turned into a scream and Catrin closed her eyes in pain as the shrillness filled her ears. Suddenly the scream stopped and Catrin opened her eyes slowly to see nothing but darkness except for a small light coming from her chest. She felt the warmth and she looked down to see the light glowing steadily. _

"_Catrin," Éomer's face came into her vision and it confused her – "WAKE UP!" The light burst with a force and she was knocked off her feet._

Her eyes opened and she was not met with the comforting hazel eyes of Éomer but instead she was met with eyes of black-filled hatred - eyes of a very large Wildman. "Now this is a treat!" The Wildman laughed – spit spraying onto Catrin's face. His hair was black, thick and wiry – hiding most of his features. Her stomach flipped as she realized Senta was no longer within the unearthed hole. Before she could look around the Wildman pulled her roughly from her shelter. She kicked and flailed aimlessly hoping the man would falter but he was too strong and Catrin felt her arms ache in his grasp.

Frightened neighing caught her attention and she saw Senta trying to free herself from the other Wildman's hold. His hair was brown, greasy, slicked back, and tied in a leather knot. Catrin flailed again as he pulled violently on the horse's reigns and Senta collapsed from the sudden loss of breath. "NO! Leave her be!" Catrin screamed. The brown-haired Wildman grunted and let Senta regain her footing. The mare's eyes met Catrin's pleading ones and she calmed as if she understood Catrin's prayer. The man smiled triumphantly and threw his rucksack over Senta's back – tying it securely around her waist. Catrin's eyes widened when she saw her bow and quiver peeking out of the rucksack and she tried to free herself from her captor's grasp.

"A treat… he he he…" The Wildman holding her smacked his lips as the brown-haired one tossed him an old bundle of rope. He caught it, still holding her effortlessly in his left arm. He threw her to the ground and the impact made Catrin's head spin as he followed – pinning her beneath his weight. He tore a piece of cloth from his cape and tied it around her mouth. The material tasted like dirt against her tongue and Catrin tried hard not to vomit. He forced her arms behind her back, tying them tightly. He continued to tie the rope around her waist – pinning her wrists snugly to her lower back. The Wildman picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder and then saddled her atop of his horse.

Catrin tried to fight him but the movement strained her shoulders painfully. He pulled the remaining rope and tied it to the saddle making it impossible for Catrin to move without dislocating her shoulders in the process. Fear started to overcome her as she realized she had failed. She did not escape the evil that destroyed her town. She was envious of the others – knowing that they were probably free from harm – that they were not alone. All of her courage abandoned her as she felt the Wildman saddle the horse as well, pressing her against his body. His stench was sour and it burned Catrin's nostrils. She felt his body surround her from behind and he whispered into her ear – his breath hot and sticky against her flesh. "I'd like a taste, ya." Catrin whimpered and tried to move away but it only caused him to grind his groin against her backside as he pulled her even closer to him.

"Bettah not get excited now Wigstan. Time fa' that lattah'." The other Wildman interrupted, as he saddled his own horse with Senta tied to his securely. "I get her firs'; keep ya hands off ah her." He commanded the other seemingly having the leadership role. Catrin's stomach flipped again as she knew what they wanted. Every ounce of her being wanted to cry out but the tears still yielded – making her senses wild in confusion.

"Ay Cerdic." The now identified Wildman grunted. Wigstan kicked his horse and rode forward as Cerdic followed. They rode quickly out of the forest and back into the open. The trotting strained her muscles even more and all she could do was keep her eyes closed as the pain overwhelmed her senses. Unfortunately, Wigstan continued to roam his hands across her stomach bringing her back to reality.

"Ahead!" Cerdic shouted and Catrin opened her eyes to see a camp of Orcs and Wildmen not far ahead of them. She estimated about a hundred of them huddling around fires – their voices like hungry dogs circling around a dying deer.

When they reached the camp, the Wildmen descended and tied their horses to a wooden pole. They were met by Orcs and Wildmen, all eyes lingering on the obviously Noble girl above them. "What's this prize?" A gruff, short, heavy man asked.

"A meal? I was hungry." A lanky orc with a severely crooked nose licked his lips as he came up to her to sniff her exposed calf. Catrin pulled away instinctively but whimpered when the ropes tightened on her wrists.

"Hands off! MINE!" Cerdic smacked the orc's greedy hands away threateningly. The other captor – Wigstan – chained Senta to the ground, leaving the horse unable to escape. Senta's eyes scanned the crowd of evil men and hungry orcs and they were wide with fear when they fell upon Catrin – helpless as the men approached her lustfully.

"Wigstan, bring her…" Cerdic ordered as Wigstan obeyed and untied Catrin from the saddle. He pulled her by the elbow and the pop that followed caused a scream to escape her as her left shoulder dislocated immediately. The pain was excruciating but what followed exceeded the injury as her whole body was dropped to the ground, a rock colliding with her hip. A blinding shot of pain escalated and darted through her leg. She feared a break but the pain seemed to subside to a strong ache as she heard those surrounding her laugh aloud at her pain.

Wigstan picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder facing Cerdic with an anxious look on his face. "I getta go righ' Cerdic?" He questioned the leader of the group as an extremely large Orc came from the crowd that had formed. The other orcs seemed intimidated by the larger one and parted for him to come to the front of the group.

"What do you need _that_ for? Saruman wants nothing from that. Kill it." The large orc spoke blatantly irritated by the commotion. Catrin's eyes widened at the words, but she could not see them nor speak in protest. All she could do was wait and her helplessness made her ill. She bit down on the dirty cloth in her mouth and thrashed - her shoulder seething in pain yet again.

"We have fun. Ya filt' can have the remains when we dun." Cerdic said and left, Wigstan following with Catrin in tow. Other Wildmen followed him as well – hoping they would also have a chance at "fun." They headed up the camp to a northern outskirt of it where the Wildmen had a designated area.

"Don't bruise the meat too much!" Catrin heard an orc jeer from behind her. The moment they reached the Wildmen's camp, she was tossed to the side and she rolled into a wooden poll that held other horses. Before Catrin could move, Cerdic pinned her and began untying her binds. A slight inkling of hope flashed before her as she felt her wrists free and she quickly swung her good arm at the man. She connected her fist with his hand as he caught it with a taunting smile.

"Still got some fight in ya. Don' worry pet. I'll break it outta ya soonah than yah think." And with that, he tied her to the poll and backhanded her across the face – instantly, all she saw was darkness.

/l*o*v*e\

Éomer led his riders hard across the plains north of Freyden. The trail had yet to go cold and he knew they grew closer every minute. He asked his riders to continue through the night and he heard no protest as his men were good men, and they knew that Catrin had to be found. Garberand never spoke, only rode close to Éomer, silently praying for another sign of his daughter's well-being. Theomund tried to speak words of encouragement but was met with silence, as the men were not known to let their hope cloud their senses.

"My Lord!" One of Éomer's riders shouted and Éomer's eyes fell upon the smoke in the distance. It rose slightly over the hills ahead and seemed to be about a couple miles ahead. The source could not be seen over the hilly terrain and Éomer cursed the land for impeding his sight. Before he could react, Garberand suddenly started to draw his sword as a herd of Orcs and Wildmen came from the forest line to their left. An arrow flew past Éomer's face and he just dodged the strike but a grunt to his right sent a chill down his spine. His eyes turned to see the horse that Garberand once rode now without a rider.

"Garberand!" He shouted, trying to keep his mind sharp as more arrows came their way. He turned his horse, knowing he could not be distracted as the attack came at full force. Drawing his sword, the riders followed suit and they rode forward to attack their assailants. Éomer found the force to be small and he swung his sword and struck down a Wildman after avoiding his axe. Firefoot dodged the next charge as another Wildman threw his axe towards Éomer, failing and he drew his spear from his side and threw it through the man's chest. Blood came pooling out of the dying man's chest and he fell to the ground, knocking a charging Orc off his feet in the process. Éomer surveyed the scene and saw his riders finishing off the small group of aggressors.

Theomund was nowhere in sight and he turned Firefoot around to face behind him. There he found the lanky young man crouched over a body his helmet off to the side. The closer Éomer got to Theomund the clearer the situation became. "Theomund?" He questioned and dismounted Firefoot quickly and approached Garberand's fallen body, an arrow lodged in his neck. He was choking on his own blood, trying desperately to speak.

"My Lord, he…" he paused and looked at his fallen Lord. Theomund was frantic. He felt lost as to what he was supposed to do. Éomer sensed the desperation and knelt beside Garberand.

"Prrrom-echhhh-ise." Garberand choked – his eyes locked with Éomer's. He was pleading with the Marshall of the Mark and Éomer feared his next words. "Yeck," he coughed as more blood sputtered from his lips. "Cat-trreen."

"I promise, Garberand." Éomer grasped the dying man's hand as he spoke the oath. Garberand's eyes widened as he coughed again. Blood smothered his lips and filled his lungs but the oath gave him relief. He died believing in the promise. Éomer felt Garberand's grasp go limp in his own and he felt the anger boil from within. Theomund gasped beside him and looked at Éomer for instructions. Éomer had no words. How could he save Catrin only to bring her more pain? He stood and backed away from the fallen Lord of Freyden. The other riders approached him – awaiting an order as well but they kept their distance from the distraught man.

Dead Wildmen and Orcs decorated the ground and Éomer came upon one of them only to throw his helmet down beside the bodies. "ARGH!" He felt out of control. His anger was becoming his only weapon and he let it build up until the green eyes came into sight. He thought of Catrin, the green-eyed girl that stole his heart. The girl that he just promised to find. Éomer swiped his helmet aggressively and turned to his men. Theomund now stood at attention – a blanket now covering the deceased Garberand. The continuing smoke beyond the hills caught his eyes again and he nodded sternly. The trail had yet to go cold and the Wildmen and Orcs that attacked them had to of been of a larger group.

"We ride!" He commanded and trudged for Firefoot, mounting him with determination. "There are more where they came from. We kill them all." He said with passion and the others followed suit as he rode hard towards the hills that hid what Éomer knew to be a camp of orcs and wildmen.

They rode over the hills without waver, approaching the camp swiftly – still hidden by the slight dimness of the sunrise. The camp ahead was still waking as the sun began to shine and Éomer knew they had the upper hand on them. To his surprise, as the camp became fully clear, and shouts of their approach stirred them awake, he saw the unmistakable silver coat of Catrin's horse, Senta. "'AY!" He yelled and charged forward – the camp now fully aware of the ambush.

Orcs and Wildmen alike began jumping to arms and running out to fight the thirty-some odd riders. Éomer felt his heart race with the sight of Senta and the hundreds of enemies did nothing to break his determination to find Catrin. She was there and he knew it deep down. The small éored finally met their enemies and the battle began. Orcs and Wildmen fell around him and he continued to fight instinctively – his sword meeting flesh at every swing. He tried to get closer to the restrained Senta but was distracted by a sudden scream from further up the camp. It was female – of that, he was not mistaken – and the fear behind it broke his calm. He roared and swung his sword down on Senta's chains. The mare reared and ran towards the echoing scream as Éomer and Firefoot fought through the enemies to follow.

/l*o*v*e\

The moment she had heard distant war cries she was slowly regaining consciousness as Wildmen around her yelled, "Rohirrim! Attack!"

"Let the orcs fight! We run!" Another Wildman shouted as footsteps neared Catrin's form and quickly worked on her bindings to release her from the wooden post. It was her chance and Catrin pretended to go limp as he picked her up. The moment her body hung over the saddle she pushed off the horse with her left arm. That was when she first released a scream. The moment she was on the muddy ground, Cerdic grabbed her leg and pulled her towards him – a knife in hand. His eyes were wild with a look she had never seen before.

"Ya wanna play pet?" He asked spitting as he spoke. "I'll fuck ya here in yar own blood." He was insane, not seeming fazed in the least by the battle that now approached them. He hovered over her and snatched her tunic, tearing it down her right shoulder – exposing her olive skin to his lustful eyes.

"No!" Catrin screamed again and lifted her knee to meet his groin. He doubled over and she scrambled to escape him but he recovered quickly enough and kicked her in the gut. She felt his knife slice her exposed calf as he snatched at her breeches. The sudden pain elicited another scream from her lips that echoed through the camp. Her voice cracked – dry and exhausted. Fear pulsed in her veins as she desperately rushed away from him.

"Look at ya! Arse up in tah air! Yah wan' it." He jeered at her and got to his feet. Catrin noticed the battle around her seemed to be nonexistent as she found herself alone with Cerdic as the others were fighting south of the camp. He slowly rounded her towards the front, blocking her escape. Catrin's eyes found his torn fur boots at her face and she swallowed not knowing what she would do next.

"You–" Catrin coughed out, but before she could finish the man gagged and his feet seemed to jitter harshly. Confusion crossed her face and she just looked ahead as Cerdic fell to the ground, dead – a large hole through his neck. Leather boots came from behind the fallen man and walked towards her making Catrin retreat quickly. She scrambled to her feat but the moment she stood she let her eyes follow up the form that killed her almost rapist. Maroon accents adorned the armor and she followed the legs up to the chest where intricate golden designs of a horse plated the chest plate. Realization started to come to her and she let her eyes travel up to the face – hazel met green. Her breath escaped her and the man in front of her removed his helmet. The emotions that she felt overwhelmed her and tears came to her eyes. She sobbed when she felt the relief in her heart.

Éomer let his helmet fall to the ground when she finally met his gaze. She was battered and bruised. Her beautiful auburn hair was caked in mud and her blood as a gash on her forehead continued to bleed. Her body seemed contorted as if unbalanced and Éomer noticed her right shoulder seemed to be hanging slightly lower than the other was. Understanding of her pain made him feel angrier than he did before but the anger was short lived when her demeanor changed rapidly. She stumbled slightly and tried with all of her energy to keep her head up.

"My Lord…" She whispered tentatively and before he could respond, she collapsed to the ground.

/l*o*v*e\

_Hello my faithful reviewers, I know it has been a while since my last update but this chapter was my biggest challenge. This was the major chapter of the first part of the story and I needed to make it realistic. I hope I did not fail in that aspect but please review as much as possible!_

_I was starting to give up on myself with this last chapter because it was a bit of a hurdle. ENJOY!_

_Next chapter will be slightly heartbreaking but also full of some fluff. _

_P.S. I might be changing the rating to M!_

_Read and Review!_

_Luvs_

_Lexi02_


	11. What's Next?

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Éomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

*la*de*da*

**Chapter 10: What's Next?**

Her eyes had been full of so many feelings. Éomer could see the maelstrom of fear, relief, desperation and confusion swarm in her bright green orbs. Everything overwhelmed him as well. The fear that her screams had caused him, the anger her appearance had brought him, and the relief her sobs gave him – all of the emotions unsettled Éomer in a way had never been before. They were soon forgotten the moment her broken body stumbled and the moment her voice broke his trance. "My Lord…" Her beautiful voice forced him to release a breath he had not realized he was holding. It never occurred to him that he actually believed he would never hear her speak to him again or see her eyes gaze into his.

The words were all she could muster and her will to fight the pain deteriorated. Her knees buckled as her eyes rolled back into her head. "Lady Catrin!" Éomer shouted but before he could rush to her, a commotion from his left seized his attention. Orcs and Wildmen were retreating but some still fought the éored. One of those that stayed to fight suddenly came after Éomer, his sword held high – hollering as he charged. Éomer risked another glance at the fallen girl and saw Senta standing over her form. Gripping his sword, Éomer turned towards the Wildman, ready for the assault.

The Wildman swung first and Éomer moved swiftly to his left, swinging his own sword to knock the Wildman's from its path. The Wildman stumbled from Éomer's avoidance and turned around aggressively to strike again.

His assailant was breathing heavily, his furs and cloak obviously causing him discomfort. To Éomer's amazement, the Wildman held his sword up again – bearing his yellow-brown teeth at Éomer. "Ya'll die – ya and all yah people! Saruman will see ya rot!" He cried and charged again. Éomer stood rooted, ready with his sword in both hands. He saw the savage eyes and all of the anger from before came rushing back. Anger from Garberand's death, from cities burning full of innocents, and anger from Catrin's obvious torture filled Éomer rapidly. He felt it all and he clenched his jaw and gripped his sword tighter. Just as the man swung his sword, Éomer ducked to his right and swiftly brought his own sword across with all of his strength. Sword met neck and when he felt resistance, he continued transferring his weight forward in one fluid motion. The resistance lifted and his sword came through cleanly. When he turned, the head rolled to his feet. The Wildman's eyes still open.

"Saruman will fall." Éomer said simply and walked away, sheathing his sword effortlessly. The battle had ended – his riders victorious. He surveyed the aftermath and ran to where he had left Catrin as soon as he realized they were safe.

Senta still hovered protectively, nudging her nose impatiently into Catrin's body. The mare was distraught from worry – not knowing why her master lay so still. "Lord Éomer?" A voice spoke from behind him and he knew it to be Theomund's. He gave the boy no attention and slid to his knees at Catrin's side. Her body was still but her heartbeat strong and he placed his hand across her forehead. Slowly he brushed her hair from her face, revealed her bruised cheek, and gashed forehead. Nothing seemed to be broken but he continued his analysis of her injuries. Her shoulder seemed out of place and he moved his hand to push aside her shirt – the exposed skin revealed her contorted shoulder. He hesitated as his rough hand grasped the shoulder cautiously. He braced her chest and pushed then pulled to place the cuff back into its spot. The pop was harsh but he knew it would be for the best. As he pulled the shirt back up to cover her – he saw the trace of bruise forming near her ribs.

"I will kill them all." He whispered harshly and pulled the shirt up from the bottom to avoid revealing her chest fully. The bruises along her ribs were yellowing but the large one that formed along her side was black and seemed to spread repulsively.

"She needs a healer!" Theomund spoke as he approached Éomer from behind. "That looks…" He paused, and swallowed, trying to regain his composure. "My Lord, we need to ride back to Freyden. Orva can help!" Theomund pleaded and darted around to come to one knee beside Éomer.

"Give me your cloak!" Éomer demanded, knowing he needed to get Catrin back to safety. Being on the open fields was risky – there were still enemies roaming the lands.

"Here." Theomund passed the cloak to Éomer – his eyes wide with worry. Éomer covered Catrin's small form in the thick cloak and slowly picked her up, letting the cloak cover her from underneath as well. The movement seemed to make her stir and the sound the escaped her lips jumped him causing him to look down at her face. She never opened her eyes but she curled into his arms, cuddling her head into his chest. "Is she awake?" Theomund questioned.

"Just stirred." Éomer turned from him and faced his éored. The men were waiting patiently – some had injuries but most stood without harm. "We need to ride back to Freyden quickly. Our healers are with the rest of my éored and many of us need attention." His men knew his words were meant for Catrin but they nodded in understanding. The warmth in Éomer's arms gave him a sense of urgency and he rushed to Firefoot. Senta rushed up next to him to make sure Catrin was safe. "Hold her for a moment." Éomer gently let Theomund hold onto Catrin as he saddled Firefoot. TO his amazement, Firefoot crouched down for Theomund to pass Catrin back to Éomer – carefully making sure that she was settled in front of him securely. Firefoot rose slowly and once Éomer felt stable he nodded to his riders. They followed suit – mounting their horses in resolve. "Hiya!" Éomer yelled and the éored rode out towards the ruins of Freyden.

*l*o*v*e*

_Yes, this is a VERY short chapter BUTTTT I received NO reviews with my last one! WHAT?! Anyways… please review! I have fun plans coming up in the next few chapters!_

_READ AND REVIEW LUVS!_

_-lexi02_


	12. Broken

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Éomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

*la*de*da*

**Chapter 11: Broken**

Two days after they had reached Freyden, the rest of Éomer's éored had arrived. His cousin, Prince Theodred had ridden back to Edoras but asked Sir Beorn to return to Freyden. Éomer was grateful for the numbers, as he knew their ride back to Edoras would need an escort. With all of the women and children in need of their protection, more riders only came as a welcoming sight.

Freyden's ruins had been turned into a temporary camp for the riders of the Mark. Tents and banners scattered the burnt and fragmented town. Within the center of the camp, a large tent adorned by the symbol of the House of Eorl stood. Despite its initial purpose, the tent housed not only the Marshall but also an unconscious Lady of Freyden. She lay in the Marshall's vacant cot. Furs covered her fever stricken body. When they had arrived two nights prior, Orva could see the color had left the girl's cheeks. Sweat trickled on her forehead and she ordered many villagers to retrieve herbs from the cellars of the former hall of Freyden. Luckily, the fires had not been able to take over the apothecary in the west wing of the Hall.

Orva addressed all of Catrin's wounds but the vicious, black and blue mass on her stomach proved to be the worse. "She bleeds from within." Orva had whispered harshly and Éomer knew the injury had taken many men of his éored before. He prayed to the realms but waited patiently by her side. He had refused to leave her and Sir Beorn had tried to convince the man to leave the tent for some air – Éomer's resolve never faltered. Instead, Éomer passed orders along to Beorn and even asked him to retrieve Garberand's body.

The moment the body arrived back to camp, Theomund had gone to Éomer's tent. Éomer remembered the boy's sadness as wretched but he was moved by the boy's insistence to lay Lord Garberand to rest before the decay overcame the body. He left Catrin's unconscious side reluctantly but led a burial for the Lord of Freyden. Garberand was laid to rest by the roses just as Lady Afentid had been and the sight made Éomer sick. He felt guilt spread through his body, as he was not able to keep his promise. Catrin was lying unconscious and her fate was unknown. Without speaking another word, Éomer left the site briskly to return to the broken beauty – praying yet again that her body would not join her fallen father as well.

He entered the tent slowly, dismissing the woman that watched over Catrin. She was a short woman and had a head of wiry black curls. She kept her head down as she scurried past the Lord but before she could leave, he spoke, "Thank you." It was a simple acknowledgement but the woman nodded gratefully and left. He proceeded to retrieve a cup of wine from his table and then took a seat next to the cot. The furs were still pulled up to her chin – tucked around her body snugly. She was breathing evenly and the color in her cheeks was slight but still present.

"My Lord?" A voice spoke from behind. Beorn entered the tent, pulling back the flap and revealing the night sky that had fallen upon them.

"Sir Beorn." Éomer said and turned his head back to watch Catrin sleep.

"Most of the men have been treated by healers now. The recoveries have been smooth. Food, supplies, and valuables have been collected for the ride south for Edoras." Beorn informed the quiet leader cautiously. Éomer sat in an old wooden chair close to the cot. His maroon cloak clasped around his shoulders to keep the cold night at bay.

"How much food?" He asked his first in command.

"Enough for half a fortnight, My Lord… but that is all." He knew his words brought apprehension to his Lord and took a moment to wait for his response. Éomer chose not to answer immediately. The ride back to Edoras would be closer to a fortnight and they needed to begin the ride south before the food became scarce. The longer they stayed in Freyden, the more they risked starvation on their journey. He sighed heavily and his face fell to his hands. Catrin was the only reason they still stayed camped.

"Ration wherever it can be done so." He finally said.

"Yes, My Lord." Sir Beorn made to leave.

"And Sir Beorn?" Éomer stopped him.

"Yes, my Lord?" Beorn asked stopping abruptly, curious as to what he needed.

"Fetch Orva for me as well." He commanded. "That is all." Beorn took his leave and rushed to fulfill his commander's orders – knowing Éomer worried that time was now Catrin's enemy. The fear also overwhelmed Beorn. He had just buried his dear friend and now the possibility of his friend's dearest treasure.

*la*de*da*

Éomer sat quietly, waiting patiently for Orva to arrive. He needed her to bring him something positive, something that would bring him hope. He looked away from Catrin and turned his gaze to his armor. Most of the blood had been cleaned from the metal but some still stained the edges. It was rare that he let his armor stay dirty longer than one night but other things had been more pressing. Catrin's injuries seemed superficial at first and once Orva opposed that thought, he immediately dreaded he had failed. Garberand had begged him with his last breath, to promise her safe return. Instead, her fate lay in the balance.

Garberand's death replayed in his head, and he felt baffled as to how all of it had happened in such a short period. The moments that preceded his death were menial and pointless, and now he found the death unreal. He never had the chance to process the scene. Éomer had been full of vigor to find Catrin and now that he stared at her form, he realized he would have to tell her as well.

"Has she stirred, My Lord?" Orva questioned. The old woman was breathing heavily, obviously winded from rushing to the tent. "I was on my way but was stalled by a rider. Some rash…" Her words trailed off when she saw he was staring at her, "Excuse me." She shook her head and moved around Éomer to reach Catrin's side. Her fever still brewed but she was no longer restless and Orva hoped it was a sign of good fortune.

"We need to ride south, Orva. Time is no longer on our side." He said solemnly and stood up from the chair.

"What do you ask?" Orva pressed, knowing the Lord to be full of earnestness.

"Can she be moved?" He said bluntly. Orva scrunched her brows in concern as his words sunk in. She went back to Catrin in order to check her most serious injury. As she pulled the furs back, Éomer turned his head out of respect but tried to listen for a reaction from the old woman. A gasp stopped his heart and he forgot chivalry and his eyes darted towards the source. Orva's hands were pulling back a cloth that had an herbal paste spread across it. The green and yellow mixture still stuck to the cloth but as it was, peeled away Catrin's abdomen was revealed. The black and purple mass that once spread repulsively over her skin now diminished. Instead, a pale yellow bruise – with hints of blue – replaced the previous mass indicating that the bleeding had subsided.

"She has one battle left." Orva said, almost sounding relieved. "Break the fever." She put her hand to Catrin's moist forehead. "It seems she is winning that battle, My Lord." The news relieved him but the news Beorn had shared with him before still plagued his mind.

"And if we ride tomorrow?" Éomer pressed.

"She can travel, My Lord, if she continues to win this fight." Orva stated and changed the cool cloth for her forehead. Éomer nodded and went to exit the tent – finally feeling some sense of liberation. He stopped to look at the two women. Catrin was safe and he needed to brief Beorn but he still felt an urge to stay with the young woman. The tug in his chest was strong as he let his gaze stay on Catrin's face longer than necessary. Orva moved slightly and it broke his stare. He looked away and left, letting the flap to the tent fall.

Éomer's gaze was full of devotion and concern. Orva could not miss it even if she had not already believed in his love for the girl. Shaking her head in slight amusement Orva turned to Catrin again and dabbed the cool cloth across her cheeks. "What a fire you burn my dear. What a fire…" She whispered wisely. "So bright, you burn so bright, child." Orva started to hum as she changed the patch of medicine on her abdomen.

*la*de*da*

_Catrin stared ahead of her, the white stonewall cascading high above. She let her eyes follow up the beautifully crafted castle walls until they came across the ceremony. People were dressed in fine gowns and tunics. Crests representing the house of Gondor, decorated the banners that lined the path between the crowds. Catrin recognized the crest from her lessons as a child and looked to the head of the aisle where a dark-haired man stood._

_Something about his face made Catrin smile. A form of recognition came over her and she felt his hazel eyes meet her green ones. His skin was olive-toned and he wore a grand cloak with Gondor's shield. A beautiful crown sat atop his head and his wavy locks cascaded around his handsome features. He smiled at her and then reached his hand out for her own. Instinctively she reached out as well – her heart beating fiercely to grasp the hand he offered. The excitement she felt was uncharacteristic and her mind questioned her need to touch the man. She did not know him and yet she felt love for the him. She recoiled her hand suddenly and the movements made the Gondorian scowl. "Erisanna?" He spoke sternly. The name gave her comfort and she met his gaze once again._

"_Who?" She began but a baby's cry took his attention. A beautiful woman, carrying a child came to the man's side. She was rocking the crying baby soothingly and the man reached out for him._

"_Ah, Aragorn, my son, what ails you." He said and started to bounce the baby playfully. The tactic worked and the boy laughed sweetly, his small hands reaching out to touch his father's face. The man smiled and then looked at Catrin again – confusion suddenly graced his handsome features. "Who are you?" He yelled and handed his son to his mother. "Guards!" He pointed at Catrin accusingly and she felt the fear and misunderstanding paralyze her as men came rushing towards her. _

"_What?" Catrin looked back and forth between the man and his guards and walked backwards gingerly. They came towards her, swords at the ready and she backed away even faster until she felt no more white stone. The cliff had ended and her fate was sword or fall. "I do not understand." She pleaded but the man was no longer in sight and she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She followed the hand up to the arm and to the face of the familiar woman of her dreams – Elvina. The green-eyed woman smiled and suddenly pulled Catrin off the cliff. She never felt her body meet the ground as light overcame her vision._

*la*de*da*

Catrin woke to the ground rumbling beneath her as she found herself lying on a wooden cart. She was covered in blankets and furs, her body sore from what she believed to be her injuries. The thought panicked her and she looked around her hastily – recalling her last memory. Riders of the Mark surrounded the cart. The fields around them were unfamiliar and she saw that the forest near Freyden was nowhere in sight. Catrin began to panic and searched for a familiar sight. To her relief she saw the silvery coat of Senta and she was trotting next to the cart, her reigns tied to the front.

She quickly went to the side of the cart and gripped the edge tightly. Dizziness started to overwhelm her as the recollection of the Wildman came back to her again. She began to heave relentlessly but nothing came up and she felt the sickly emptiness in her stomach and the muscles straining to excrete the nonexistent.

"Catrin!" Orva called and she heard the woman move for her from behind. The voice made her lightheaded again and she continued her effort at vomiting. "Col, bring me the pitcher!" Orva ordered but Catrin kept her eyes on the dirt and grass below. A stocky boy handed Orva a pitcher of water and the woman retrieved it swiftly.

Catrin felt hands grasp her shoulders to pull her back from the edge but the movement was unwelcome and Catrin gripped the cart to resist. "Here, Catrin, drink this." A wooden bowl full of water appeared beneath her chin and Catrin reached for it slowly.

She brought the bowl to her lips and sipped, letting the liquid cool her throat. She felt it pass through her chest and a calming sensation came to her stomach as she continued to drink slowly. Small amounts at a time, she thought to herself – the words repeating in her head. Her father used to tell her to drink slowly when she was sick as a child and the memory warmed her heart. "Oh Catrin…" Orva exclaimed and reached out to hold the girl.

"Orva…" Catrin said softly – unable to muster enough energy to say any more. She fell into the woman's embrace willingly. Orva never spoke – she just held her – letting all of her fears wash away in the one embrace.

"The orcs? The Wildmen?" Catrin asked alarmingly. Orva started to rub her back soothingly before she spoke.

"Shhh…" Orva calmed the girl. "They're gone. Lord Éomer and his men killed them. You are safe, child. I am so thankful you are safe."

"You are alive! How?" Catrin asked, realizing she never knew of her fate.

"You saved us Catrin. We came back to Freyden but you were gone. Freyden has burned, child, but its people are safe." Orva reassured the exhausted girl and enfolded her closer. Catrin's energy began to reduce from the warmth of her surrogate mother's arms.

"Where?" Catrin asked as she continued to lean into Orva's arms but opened her eyes to see the land they traveled on.

"We ride for Edoras. Our city was lost. Lord Éomer's éored is escorting us to the city." Orva informed the girl.

"Lord Éomer…" Catrin whispered and realized her father would be with them as well as Theomund. The idea made her smile and she surveyed the groups of people that walked behind the cart – happy to see so many from her town now walking and roding to safely with them. Her father would be proud. The anticipation to see him overpowered and she sat up to look ahead of their cart – hoping to spot him among the riders.

"Catrin? What is it, my dear?" Orva questioned as she felt the girl pull away from her suddenly.

"I was looking for father. I was hoping he was near." Catrin exclaimed, her eyes still searching.

"Catrin, please." Orva did not realize her mistake.

"Please?" Catrin inquired and met Orva's eyes. The tears that pooled in the corners of Orva's dark eyes made Catrin's stomach drop, and she began to search more frantically. Orva sensed the panic from the now unsettled young woman.

"Lady Catrin, calm yourself dear." However, the words were no use as the stricken girl stood and started shouting.

"Father!" Catrin's voice was desperate. "FATHER!" She hollered and riders began to focus on her form in the carriage and the old woman trying to grab and calm her.

"He's not here, Catrin! Please sit down!" Orva pleaded but Catrin ignored the woman and went to jump off the cart. The little strength she had seemed to be fueled by her desperation and she started to walk briskly ahead of the cart. Senta neighed but Catrin did not seem to hear her and kept shouting for her missing father.

"FATHER! WHERE ARE YOU?" She repeated.

"STOP! Stop the cart!" Orva bellowed and soon riders were stopping as well – curious as to the source of the the commotion. Orva panicked and her body could not keep up with Catrin and she lost her in the group of riders ahead. "CATRIN!" She shouted after the girl.

Every rider Catrin passed gazed at her worriedly. Some asked if she needed help but she continued to call out for her father. Catrin felt as if the world was starting to spin and she stumbled slightly. "My lady?" A familiar voice called from the right of her, "Lady Catrin?" Éomer asked. She looked frightened – there was color in her cheeks, and Éomer was grateful to see her awake but not in such a condition. Orva was running up from behind Catrin but he could not make out her words as he approached.

"Wh-Where is he?" Catrin shouted and he looked just as her green eyes met his – threateningly. "Tell me!" She demanded. "FATHER? FATHER!" She shouted and looked around desperately.

"He's gone." Éomer said simply not knowing what else he could say.

"Where?" Disbelief in her voice.

"He's gone. He has fallen." He said and she whimpered as the tears burned her eyes and the sob she held back strained her chest.

"NO!" Catrin spoke out and Orva came to comfort her but she stepped away violently. "No! No! No!" She started to yell up to the sky, not knowing what else she could do. She was screaming louder now but when she felt a presence near her she went to step away but a strong hand gripped her arm.

"Lady Catrin…" Éomer waited for her crazed eyes to meet his and he held her gaze, pouring all of his sympathy into it. She started to break right before him – her body shaking violently.

"Éomer…" she whispered, not realizing how she addressed him and she fell into him as he pulled her into his arms. She started to scream out. Everything was releasing itself from Catrin's broken spirit – the fight in Freyden, the sight of fallen men and women, the fear of death and rape, and now her father's death. Her screams were relentless and yet he held her without waver.

That is when he felt it, the moisture on his shoulder – tears. He pulled back to see her and his heart broke. Tears were pouring from her striking green eyes – eyes that were always defiant, always holding back; and yet, here she was, crying. She looked at him through clouded tears and shook her head. "Why?" It was barely a whisper and she hunched again as another wave of tears flooded down her cheeks. He pulled her close, resting his chin atop her head. He just held her as she sobbed; not knowing what words could sooth her pain.

*la*de*da*

_Yay! Another chapter finished!_

_READ AND REVIEW! READ AND REVIEW! READ AND REVIEW! READ AND REVIEW!_

_OH AND P.S. READ AND REVIEW!_

_Luvs_

_-Lexi02_


	13. Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

For those of you that have been following my story, I do apologize for the lack of updates the past month and a half. My life has taken quite a busy turn and it is finally starting to slow down. I am currently finished with the next chapter but I won't be updating until Sunday because of a few revisions that I would like to make.

Part of my delay is also because of the lack of interest in the story. If you are a writer as well then you also understand the importance of motivation. THAT WOULD BE MY READERS! You guys are my motivation! Please keep the story alive! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

Thank you luvs!

UPDATE VERY VEERY VERRRYYYY SOOOON!

_Lexi 02


	14. Unravel

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Éomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

*la*de*da*

**Chapter 12: Unravel**

Éomer did not know how long he held the broken girl but her sobs seemed to soften as they sat there. Risking a chance to move away from her he found himself hindered by her frantic hands clinging to his breastplate. She released a strong cry – a struggled plea of fear. Her desperation caused him to freeze. His eyes found Orva's in the crowd and she gave him nothing by pity in her eyes. No one knew how to proceed. Not even Orva, whose demeanor seemed helpless at the scene.

Without further questioning, Éomer lifted the small young woman into the air. Still clinging relentlessly to him, Catrin never faltered in her grasp. Éomer passed the riders ahead of him in order to saddle Firefoot who waited patiently for his return.

"Sir Beorn!" He called for his first captain. The man rode up next to the Marshall as he saddled Firefoot awkwardly, trying not to drop Catrin in the process. Beorn paid no attention to the unfitting situation and Éomer was grateful for the feigned ignorance as it was not proper for a Lady to be in his arms so closely.

"My Lord?" He proceeded.

"Order the men forward. We need to gain more ground before nightfall." He paused and looked behind him at all the mixed company. Riders, women, and children – all exhausted and covered in dirt from their long journey. "They need rest. Our horses and our riders cannot continue without dying from exhaustion." He sighed as his éored moved forward yet again.

"We are ahead two days, My Lord. Cutting through the hills last morn gave us extra time. If we keep our pace, the éored will arrive by tomorrow's nightfall." The news was hopeful but as the body in Éomer's arms curled into him even more, he knew rest was still necessary. Edoras was still far enough that his men could suffer a great deal.

"And what of the rations?"

"Enough for two moons yet. The riders have been extremely thrifty in their portions. Good men you have My Lord." Beorn said with pride.

"Indeed they are. Men of Rohan – there is no doubt in my mind that they will still resist a full ration for the sake of the women and children." Éomer said knowing his men would sacrifice their lives as well if essential to the survival of the innocent. "We will camp at night fall. Once we reach the river bend – a day's ride from the city. Many will be grateful for the fresh water as well." He admitted. The two men let the conversation end, satisfied with their upcoming mission.

Catrin's sobs had fully ceased during their exchange. Her breathing was heavy – her lips parted slightly as she let sleep take over. Éomer was relieved by her soft breathing and wrapped his right arm around her securely. He had not noticed how close she actually was to him until that moment. Her small form was flush against his and he could feel the heat radiate from her body. Catrin felt hot, and his blood began to boil. He inwardly cursed himself for feeling as such and tried to divert his thoughts elsewhere. He failed miserably as his thoughts continued to return to Catrin and her bright green eyes. His feelings for her were definite and he could no longer hide them fully.

After being so close to losing Catrin, he could not bear it if he never expressed the feelings he had; however, admitting as such had its consequences. His duty to the Mark was imperative as the war brewed around them. Bothering himself with such a frivolous emotion could be a distraction in many views. "Damn the realms!" He uttered viciously.

"My Lord?" Beorn pried but Éomer remained silent, angry at his weakness. It was difficult for him to ignore Catrin with her so close. He knew he could not keep his true intentions from her – it would only cause him frustrations that he could not tolerate. His strength grew thin as it was and adding another burden could cause him to break his wall completely.

Catrin muttered suddenly and Éomer leaned closer to hear her words but hooves and various sounds around them asphyxiated the soft voice. Éomer pondered as to what the sleeping Lady dreamt of and lost himself in the contemplations as they continued towards Edoras.

/3/

_Catrin found herself atop the great white castle of Gondor once again. She was in the training yard as was King Arathorn and a young boy around the age of twelve. The two men were sparing – swords clashing against the other in aggressive strokes. The young boy dodged the king's next attack swiftly. The king laughed heartily from the evasion and spoke, "Your mother would have been proud, my son!"_

_ "I still lost my footing after the dodge father!" The boy dismissed his father's praise and dipped his head clearly frustrated._

_ "Are you tired boy? Do I need to ask the groom to fetch us water?" The king asked his son pointedly._

_ "No! I am NOT tired." The young boy bantered and dashed forward to challenge his father again. His hazel eyes were fierce with determination, framed by wavy dark locks and then Catrin remembered his name – Aragorn._

_ "Aragorn, son of Arathorn." She whispered as the realization happened._

_ "Your older brother is going to be a better swordsman than your father." The familiar voice startled Catrin and she refused to look at the woman as she approached her from behind. "Maybe, you will be as well my dear Erisanna." Elvina assed, unphased by Catrin's aloofness. The sparring between the two men ahead grew closer to Catrin and Elvina. Catrin attempted to dodge them but to her surprise, their fighting figures passed through without hinder._

_ "What?" Catrin questioned, realizing she was just a witness to this scene._

_ "Are you coming to understand?" Elvina asked. "You are merely a visitor of a distant moment in time. You were not even born yet child." Elvina continued, unaware of Catrin's inability to follow the words she spoke at that moment._

_ After a long pause, Catrin finally turned to face the woman who had been haunting her dreams. Green eyes met green and Catrin felt chills from the strong sense of true familiarity. Catrin had never taken the time to look at Elvina and it started to make her light-headed as she saw her own eyes look back at her and auburn hair – her auburn hair – cascade over Elvina's shoulder's. The beautiful locks were thick and tucked behind the older woman's ears. Catrin gasped as she saw Elvina's ears for the first time. She could not believe she had never noticed in previous dreams. "You – you are an elf?" She declared, finding the words almost foolish as she spoke them. Elvina smiled softly at Catrin and tucked a dew more lose strands of hair behind her elongated, soft, white ears. Before Catrin could continue, the scene around them changed._

_ The sky above became white stone. The grass and dirt beneath their feet became cold, shadowed stone. Vines grew on the walls from the open windows and the singular archway from the far side of the room. A man with wavy, dark hair stood near a white stone tomb. As his hand graced the tomb, he spoke, "Father… you are with mother now." Catrin saw the man's hand stretch to touch the older tomb beside it. "Be at peace." He walked away, his steps heavy from grief._

_ Catrin approached the tomb slowly and she felt a weight fill her chest as she saw the carving on the tomb. The face was unmistakable. She did not need to read the words below. "King Arathorn…"_

_ "Now do you see?" Elvina appeared from the archway and approached the fallen king's grand tomb, passing the late queen's respectfully. Elvina leaned forward to kiss the stone face of Arathorn. She stared for a moment as if his face would soften and come to life through the stone. Finally, she rose from her kneeling position to meet Catrin's distressed gaze. "You are grieving Erisanna."_

_ "My name is Catrin." She defied. Elvina smiled and walked up to her and raised her hand to touch Catrin's reddened cheek._

_ "Yes, but you ARE Erisanna." She dropped her hand and continued, "You are no child of Freyden." Garberand's face flashed before Catrin's eyes at the mention of her ruined home and she shivered at the reality of her father's death. His smiling kind face was joined by her mother's, Lady Afentid, and she pushed their faces away forcefully. Catrin shook her head violently, overwhelmed by the unraveling secret._

_ "I do not understand! Freyden is my home! My mother and father are dead! I – I – I do NOT understand!" She cried._

_ "Shhh… It will be okay Erisanna. I am so sorry you have been taken from your true home, and your true self. I am so sorry you never knew your father." Elvina stole a glance at the tomb of Arathorn behind her before continuing, "You will understand, in time, why I let you go. I love you, my daughter." Elvina stepped closer. "Your father would have loved you. Your spirit is beautiful, it is time you let it free. I will always be with you…" Erisanna began to glow with a light coursing through her body. As her hand raised the light began to center towards her hand and engulfed it, "in here." She pressed her fingers to Catrin's heart with the last words and the warm light pulsed forward and engulfed Catrin. The warmth from the light filled her and she realized she was no longer sleeping…_

No longer within the walls of the castle, Catrin recalled her surroundings again. She felt alive. The energy she felt briefly when grasping her bow days ago was stronger than before. She gasped at the sensation as it electrified every limb in her body.

"My Lady? Are you alright?" Éomer asked the suddenly awakened girl, but she did not answer. Catrin felt suffocated in his arms and broke free swiftly. Before Éomer could regain his bearings, the petite woman swung her arms towards Firefoot's neck and she jumped from his back graciously. The motion was fluid and she touched the ground gracefully, barely imprinting the damp earth beneath her feet.

Catrin scanned her surroundings, ignoring the surprised remarks from the around her. She felt crazed. Everything was intensified. The sun was brighter than she had ever seen it, and warmer than she had ever felt it. Every blade of grass touching her feet, tickled her skin. The dew cooled her toes, sending chills through her legs and to her spine. Catrin listened to the sounds next. Muscles moving, grass catching the skirts of women, exhausted pants from over-worked horses, and then a snort from an exasperated mare. The mare's nose nudged her neck and Catrin felt her senses begin to settle at Senta's touch.

"I missed you as well girl." She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to face the judgmental looks. Deciding to open them, she met Éomer's concerned ones first. Not only did she see concern but also anger and she wondered what caused such an emotion. "Sorry for the surprise, My Lord. The dream gave me quite a fright." Catrin exclaimed.

Her senses were still sharp but she felt control over them for the time being. Senta nudged her shoulder impatiently and she smiled, knowing the mare had been worried. Without waiting a moment longer, she mounted the white horse and settled atop feeling complete for the first time in a while. The feeling was incredible and she felt invincible. "I believe I have held up this éored one to many times, My Lord." She said once she noticed that he was still staring at her. "I do apologize." She blushed as she recalled her earlier improper words and actions towards her Lord that morning. "I feel the need to ride the rest of this journey. I have been horizontal for far too long." She smiled slightly at the silent Lord and he shook his head.

"Do not strain yourself, Lady Catrin or you will be holding us up yet again." He remarked with a slight edge in his voice.

His words stabbed at her but she pushed it aside. Letting emptions win would only bring grief back into her life. There was no time for tears especially during times that brought war and carnage. The thoughts caused Catrin to sigh as all of her dreams rushed back into her mind. Catrin knew that the dreams were a warning or at least a form of necessity in the upcoming battle. She felt it in her being. Her heritage, she believed, was imperative and she could not fathom how it would play a role. "Goddess!" She rolled her eyes at the confusing inner battle. She could not imagine that she was a daughter of an elf and especially not that of a King. Her head began to spin as her mother and father – Afentid and Garberand – forced themselves into her vision. She missed them greatly. They were all she knew. They were her mother and father, and yet, deep down she felt the truth in Elvina's words. Her father always presented her with gifts of elfin heritage and yet he had never spoken of elfin acquaintances. "Impossible…" She whispered as she thought of her childhood.

Senta cocked her head at the declaration but Catrin soothed her and shook the puzzling thoughts and feelings away. Whatever the truth, she lost her father to a band of orcs and her mother when she was too young to show her what a woman she would become. _That was the truth_… Catrin thought. Everything else could wait.

*la*de*da*

There it is, Chapter 12! Chapter 13 is finished but I want to see what people think of this one before I update! Sooooooo…. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

Thank you!

Lexi02


	15. Apologies

Summary: Middle Earth was no longer her world; it was theirs. They had taken it by force – with violence and hatred – and she was going to take it back. She would protect what was left of the lingering beauty that still fought through the darkness. This is a story of love, war, courage, and perseverance. Éomer/OC.

Disclaimer: I own ONLY my original characters and their individual storylines. JRR Tolkien was a genius and through his beautiful mind a world was created; and from that world he has given us an opportunity to imagine something so great and outside of ourselves.

*la*de*da*

**Chapter 13: Apologies**

Catrin noticed the men seemed to be awaiting Éomer's orders but he was silently staring at her with an unreadable expression. "My Lord?" Catrin began, but he turned from her as cheeks flushed red when their eyes met.

"Onward, we rest at the river bend tomorrow!" He shouted and Firefoot galloped forward as did Senta. Senta's natural response felt strong and Catrin knew something had changed. She had never felt so invigorated before or at least not since the battle at the wall of Freyden. This was more intense and it was constant. The thought made her realize she had lost her bow to the Wildmen and it grieved her greatly. The last gift that her father had given her was gone.

"Lady Catrin, I am relieved to see you atop a horse." Sir Beorn spoke from her left. "I am very sorry for your loss. Your father was a brave man and his love for his people and for you was exceptional." Catrin smiled at his sincerity and fought back the urge to cry.

"Thank you Sir Beorn. Truly." She said smiling to reassure her own candor.

"You are a fighter like him. You saved those people." He continued.

"It was mostly luck. We lost some good men and women. I hope they find peace Sir Beorn." Catrin sadly added, knowing that her words would do no good for those that were lost in battle.

"They were buried with the greatest respect. And your father was as well, beside your mother." Beorn's testimony swelled Catrin's heart, as she knew her mother, Lady Afentid, waited patiently for her husband to join her.

"I only wish I had had the chance to say goodbye." She admitted with difficulty.

"You will darling, as soon as this fight is over. Just don't go joining him too soon – he won't forgive you for that!" Beorn scolded her eliciting a small laugh from the young woman. Senta neighed at the laughter. "That horse of yours is lucky she is so beautiful. Most Wildmen would have killed and cooked her if she wasn't such a rare breed."

"I cannot even fathom losing her as well." Catrin said sternly. Senta felt her concern and huffed to break the distressed girl from her thoughts. Shivering from the unwanted image, Catrin looked at Beorn once again. "Sir Beorn," she spoke after a short pause.

"Yes?"

"Do you know if anything else was retrieved from the Wildmen's camp?"  
"Such as?"

"It is foolish really, but my bow? It was the last gift from my late father." She explained.

"I was not there darling but I know weapons and food were salvaged. I would ask the Marshall." Catrin nodded feeling her hope run short.

"I apologize, My Lady, but I must send a scout ahead for the coming days ride. Young Theomund has proven his skills in that particular field. He rides fast." Sir Beorn laughed outwardly, "Chasing you for many years I assume!" He jested and Catrin's hear skipped a beat.

"Theo…" She turned to watch as the older man rode back into the éored to retrieve a scout. She wanted to follow him and see her closest friend. It had slipped her mind that she worried for his safety as well. Her slip made her feel guilty, as she found herself fearful of facing the groom. The guilt was pushed aside when she heard something in the distance. The sound was faint but her heightened senses caught the rustling of leaved in the distance. She could have sworn she heard them moving. The notion was senseless and she rolled her eyes at her own insanity. "I must be losing my mind, Senta." The horse merely huffed at her words and Catrin tried to focus on anything, anything at all that would bring her away from the present.

She closed her eyes and let her arms fall to her sides. Senta continued the pace but Catrin felt no faltering in her own stability. Her balance was in harmony with the mare's movements. The air was clean and she rolled her neck from side to side, letting her worn muscles stretch and the bones crack. It was freeing and she lifted her arms slightly and opened her hands to feel the wind pass through her fingers. The act always gave her peace.

…l…o….v….e….

Catrin was nothing short of beautiful as her petite form arched naturally on the horse. She looked ethereal with the setting sun giving her skin a soft glow. Her auburn hair danced in the light, and Éomer tried to look away but failed. Her very nature was alluring. So free, so full of fierceness – she was incalculable to him and it flustered his very senses. He fought the urge to reach for her despite the witnesses around him. Finally, he looked away and searched for Sir Beorn.

The seasoned rider was nowhere in sight and Éomer assumed the man had gone in search for a scout. Beorn had proven beyond useful in his éored, as the Marshall rarely needed to request a basic command from Beorn. He had faith and trust in Beorn's decisions. The quality was necessary for the training of new riders and it relieved some of Éomer's worries. As he found himself lost in his thoughts, Éomer realized the Captain – Sir Beorn – joined him at his side.

"My Lord, we are sending young Theomund ahead." Beorn informed the Marshall. Éomer was surprised at the former groom's usefulness and they had taken advantage of it many times when in need of a scout. The boy was fast on the horse as well as on foot. He was quiet and swift and rarely caught anyone's unwanted attention. Theomund was an asset indeed.

"Good," He responded and turned his head to see the scout approaching the unbeknownst Lady from behind. Catrin's eyes were still closed and he wondered if the girl was even conscious of her surroundings. "See that he brings extra bread. I do not want another soul lost on this journey." He added before turning back to the ride.

….l…o…v…e…

The approaching hooves behind Catrin did not cause much alarm for the Lady. She felt calm for the first time since she had woken on the cart next to Orva. She did not want the moment shortened by acknowledging the one approaching her so suddenly. The voice that followed however promised her composure to be short-lived.

"Ya truly are feeling bettah!" The voice was unmistakable to Catrin and she gulped as the reality crushed her moment of serenity.

"Theo." She said quietly, turning her head to see him but chose not to fully meet his eyes.

"Great Gods Catrin! Don't ya ever do that again!" His arms were awkwardly around her in seconds as he attempted to hug Catrin as best as he could while still mount on his horse. "I mean it!" He reaffirmed his point with another tight squeeze and then he released her keeping his eyes on her face. She was wide-eyed and staring at him, speechless. "Catrin?" She sniffed and for a moment, she thought she was going to cry but instead she reached out to embrace him as well.

"I am so sorry Theo! I should have come looking for you sooner. I am beyond happy that you are alive!" She cried out.

"I don't expect ya to come runnin', with everything ya are going through…" He paused and pulled away from her to look at the back of his horse's head. Catrin stared at him as he tried to find words. "…after everything…" He whispered solemnly and said nothing else. He knew Catrin was trying to hold her grief and for her survival he would help her with that, and he continued, "I'm scouting ahead ya know."

"I heard that was so."

"Curious how fast I seem to ride, aye? I think a rider's trainin' should start with chasin' ya down for years and years." He laughed and Catrin joined in, happy that her worries could subside for some time.

"I missed you, Theo." Catrin added unexpectedly.

"I missed ya as well, My Lady." He winked at her with the use of such propriety and Catrin rolled her eyes at his quip.

"I am no Lady now, I have slain men." She countered with a touch of sternness in her words.

"A warrior princess then!" He chortled and the two were interrupted as Sir Beorn made his gestures for Theomund to finish his conversation.

"I must set out, Catrin." Theomund informed Catrin and smiled in order to reassure her, "I'll be seeing ya at the next moon." With that, Theomund quickly consulted with Beorn and nodded at Catrin before riding ahead to scout. Catrin watched him until his form disappeared completely.

"Be safe." She whispered to no one in particular and tugged Senta's mane slightly in order to change direction for the Marshall ahead.

The closer she came to Éomer's side, the more fear she felt. She did not understand the trepidation for the situation but she assumed the cause was her embarrassment. She had clung to the King's nephew like a starving child. The way she had addressed him improperly as well made her blush ferociously. Finally at his side she tried to gain the confidence to speak but he glanced her way, "My Lady, I see you are happy to have your riding legs returned."

"I am, My Lord." Her past intentions to share diminished the moment he spoke. His rough, deep voice calmed her and his dark eyes provided her with a sense of safety.

"I am sorry for my brazenness before. You had startled me. Your safety had hung in the balance for so long…" He muttered. Before she could respond, he changed the subject effortlessly. "I have something for you." He leaned back and reached into his saddlebag that hung on Firefoot's saddle. "Senta had this in a leather pouch around her neck when we found you at the camp. I thought you would be devastated to have lost this also." He pulled out her bow from the bag and Catrin's breath hitched at the sight of her elfin treasure.

"I – I – I thought I would never see this again." Catrin grasped the weapon securely and ran her free hand along the bend of the beautiful carvings.

"It's elfin, is it not?" Éomer questioned the stricken girl.

"Yes, it was from my father." Éomer was silent at her admittance and chose not to further the matter. "Thank you." She smiled and he nodded at her gratitude.

"We have another two days ride ahead of us. Will you be riding the rest of this journey? You look well again." He pried.

"I do, My Lord. I can continue riding, I am certain." She assured the concerned Marshall and rubbed Senta's mane as she added, "Senta craves the attention as well." Éomer laughed at her words. "Are you eager to return home, Lord Éomer?"

"Edoras is not the home I once loved, neither is the King." Éomer lamented and Catrin could sense his distress.

"Your uncle?" She pressed cautiously.

"Yes… Saruman's influence has reached every corner of Rohan. Who knows how far beyond the land it goes…" Anger smothered his words and Catrin felt the pain he kept hidden. He was a protector off the Rohirrim and he was watching the land crumble before his eyes.

"What are we to do then?" Catrin knew the question was impossible to answer, as each being would have to decide for themselves what they would do in response to evil.

"Pray? Fight? Hope? I fear without the King's mind clear we will be lost." Éomer gazed at the horizon and Catrin knew he was lost in dread. "I hope my cousin can break his father from this evil spell Grima Wormtongue had placed upon my Uncle."

"Grima?"

"The King's advisor, his presence has allowed evil to seduce our city and our King."

"I will fight." Catrin said after some time. Éomer snapped his head at her with surprise. "I will not watch the beauty of Rohan darken and turn to ash. I will fight. Edoras will not see the same fate as Freyden." Éomer stared at her in awe. Catrin could feel his eyes on her but chose to keep her gaze ahead and away from his darker ones.

"My Lady." He whispered.

"The people of Rohan will not leave you to defend this country alone. It is not in a horse lord's nature after all." She smiled and finally looked at him defiantly, knowing he would fight her if he could.

"You are fill of conviction Lady but–"

"I am no child. I remember making that perfectly clear." She added pointedly.

"Ha! You are as stubborn as my sister!"

"I am flattered by such a compliment." Catrin giggled. Éomer laughed as well and Catrin reveled in the moment. "I am looking forward to meeting the Lady Éowyn."

"I am certain she will be very fond of you and will enjoy your company." The silence grew between them and Catrin realized she had forgotten their situation for a moment. It came so easily – the grace and comfortable banter.

"I meant to thank you, Lord Éomer. You saved my life. You came back for us. Your comforted me…" She paused. "I am truly sorry for my behavior this morning. I never meant to…" She bowed her head, her cheeks burning.

"Never apologize for your nature, Catrin." He said her name softly and it made Catrin's heart race at the lack of title. "I found comfort in the assuredness of your safety. I will always protect you." He hesitated in order to look her in the eye and he held her gaze.

The feelings were intense as words were not shared but she understood him. Nothing about his gaze suggested otherwise. She knew not where the urge came from but the name elicited on its own, "Éomer…" She said before she even realized she had actually uttered his name so informally. His expression changed the instant he heard his name on her lips. His muscles softened, his brows lifted, and his shoulders moved as he breathed in deeply.

"ORCS!"

"IT'S PRINCE THEODRED AND HIS ÉORED!" The shouts broke their passion as they came over a hill. Catrin looked into the valley below and her body tensed at what she saw. Men of the Mark were clashing swords with a mass of orcs and another creature Catrin had never seen before. Dread filled her chest as she saw the tents of riders burning and bodies strewn across the land. They had been attacked while camping and the sickening urge to vomit overcame her being. Swallowing forcefully, Catrin looked at Éomer for help.

Éomer's eyes were wide and he quickly snatched his helmet from a rider to his right. Beorn came up to the two as well and spoke frantically, "My Lord, we must attack immediately!" Éomer responded by unsheathing his sword, Guthwine, and raising it high above him.

"Sir Beorn, stay with the women and children and chose a handful of riders to stay with you." Éomer ordered his loyal servant who nodded in understanding.

"Hiya!" He kicked his horse and rode off to instruct other orders for the Marshall. Éomer looked at Catrin and spoke ferociously.

"Stay here!" He barked and the words forced anger into Catrin's being as she searched for a quiver from a nearby cart. She accepted the jolt of energy from her bow gratefully – excited to feel her senses sharpen instantly.

"No." She defied simply just as Éomer shouted his order to attack.

"ATTACK!" He did not seem to hear her last declaration as the éored rode forward to aid their comrades. Senta reared slightly, knowing and etching to join the stampede.

"You ready girl?" Catrin asked urgently, her thighs tightening against Senta's sides. The horse huffed anxiously and reared again as Catrin readied herself for battle. Éomer's order ignored, Catrin saw Theomund's face, and prayed he was not in the battle as well. "AHHH!" Catrin's cry was strong and she reached for an arrow from her quiver as Senta gained momentum towards the front of the assault. Catrin felt no fear and smirked ready to fight the evil ahead.

…l…o…v…e….

Tah Dah! So my loyal and faithful readers, there is chapter 13! I hope you are enjoying the direction of this story Also, I have had a review stating that my need for reviews is slightly immature. I apologize if people feel this way and I only ask for them because I know my writing can always use improvement. Reviews are greatly constructive and motivating so I do ask that my readers continue to leave their words!

Thank you!

Luvs

Lexi02


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